Power and Weakness, by Alison Orland

‘My power is made perfect in weakness.’ 2 Corinthians 12: 9

I have been thinking about this verse from the Apostle Paul, and what life as a disabled person tells me about it. I experience weakness all the time. My limits of energy, whether physical, mental and emotional, are always with me. Pain and exhaustion are my ‘reward’ for any kind of activity. I have lots of ideas and dreams and goals, but never enough resources for them. This is frustrating, and I am often tempted to push through to get things done. It is hard to stop half-way through, or let something go that I wanted to achieve. Pressures from others and from society make this even harder. We are shamed for being disabled, for not earning, for not achieving, and this is hard to bear. I want to achieve potential, and show others I am strong, I can manage, I have something to give. I want to shake off shame and scorn.

But if Paul’s words are true, there is value in weakness. So, what happens if I learn to know my limits, and respect them? I feel vulnerable, meeting my humanity full on. I realise I am not invincible. I am not all-powerful, neither am I in charge of my life. I can’t have everything the way I wanted. I know I am not God. I feel small, frail and a bit helpless. None of this is easy, but it can be a relief to know that God is God, not me!

There are also things I stop doing. I stop pushing myself too hard. I stop forcing myself through pain. When I accept my own limits, it is easier to accept other people’s, and I stop judging. I stop being driven. I stop trying to be super-woman, doing everything myself.

And there are things that happen inside me. My heart feels softer and I can let go of pride. There is time to look around me. I can be real, to myself and before God. I can let go of the illusion that I don’t need God or anyone else. Letting go is painful. It often makes me cry, as hopes, plans and dreams slip out of reach. And it can also make me afraid. But as my grip on life loosens, I notice I feel different when I come before God. I can be available to him. I can lay empty hands before him. Empty hands can be made full again, replacing my own ideas with what he wants for me. I can ask what he wants to give me.

Accepting my vulnerability has become a place where I can meet God, be open to him, and be available to him.  It has become a sort of altar where I can lay myself before him and give him myself all over again. Suddenly all the things I was so attached to feel less important. And often what he wanted for me all along was what I could actually manage.

I gain self-compassion. I gain empathy for others. I gain a softer, more receptive heart which is more open to God. I am no longer carrying burdens too heavy for me, all alone. I gain acceptance. I gain understanding. Sometimes I gain the peace that comes with walking with God, and a sense of resting in him. Or I just feel less stressed and driven. Sometimes I sense I have been made available for another person I might encounter that day, or for prayer, or for creativity. Other times I realise I just needed rest, to do nothing, and recover.

I prefer the word vulnerability to weakness, because it speaks to me of limits, of accepting them and of being real about them. And when I do this, I can meet God and let him work in me.

‘My grace is enough for you, because my power is made perfect in weakness’.

2 Cor. 12: 9.

A Prayer:

Lord, when I am tempted to push through, to stay in control, when I am grasping my plans too tightly, help me accept my limits and let you meet me there.  Amen.