Weakness says....

You know what I dislike about weakness?
Weakness makes me dependent.
Weakness forces me into neediness, and that word makes me suck in air like I just took a stomach punch to my pride.
Though we are born into this world needing everything done for us, before we are even a year old, we begin to rebel against such dependency. Why is that? What makes us work so hard to be independent? Are we better off when we don't need anyone, are we stronger?

I remember reading David's words he wrote about himself, "As for me, I am poor and needy" and being struck with just how hard I work at not having to say something like that about myself. I like to think I'm  strong and self-sufficient. It's alright to be needed, but to be needy is something altogether different. To be needed says to me that I am valuable and I like that. If, however, I find myself not needed, my flesh takes a hit. If I find myself weak and in need of help from others, my pride is even further insulted.

None of us are good at everything, but we sure would like to be. It seems shameful for others to discover our inadequacies, so we mask our weakness by making friends with those who are strong where we aren't. Sadly though, using someone else's strength eventually backfires, leaving you feeling even weaker and more inadequate than before. Constantly comparing yourself and finding yourself lacking just makes you resent your weakness and your dependence. Weakness has morphed into not being good enough; it's been swallowed up by flesh. It has become the accuser, the constant nagging doubter against your sufficiency. The friends you depend on become reminders of your failure. Fear grows with the realization that they have the power to hurt you, driving you to lash out at them or run from them.
You're no better off than before, surrounded by relationships destined to fail in resentment and fear. Your attempts to hide weakness, to imitate strength only leave you destitute, angry and full of self-pity. Something has gone terribly wrong! At any moment, the monster inside reaches out and shows its ugliness. You've lost control of this flesh that seems to now be controlling you, and you wonder how you got to this point, convinced you are worthless, still afraid that others will discover how weak you are. Like a magnet, weakness attracts every negative thought possible. You try to fling it away, but it just slams right back on you.

That's what happens when flesh takes charge of weakness, and believe me, it is the most natural thing in the world.  It also makes you forget that you're a dead man walking, convincing you that you are too strong to die.

An amazing thing happens when the Spirit takes over our weakness; God comes in and accomplishes things we never dreamed possible. We are awed by His greatness and humbled by our smallness, but not once are we dismayed or discouraged by our inadequacy. Not once do we compare ourselves to God and resent Him for his strength. Instead, we are grateful for our limitations because without them we would never know God's creative power in our lives.

Paul wrote to the Corinthians,
"We were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead." 2 Corinthians 1:8b-9

I wonder at our lunacy sometimes. It seems insane that we would make every effort to rely on ourselves when we could be depending on the power that raises the dead! Are we blind or stupid?
Honestly!

Weakness doesn't have to belong in the hands of flesh. Flesh doesn't have the right to use weakness to slap me in the face, and I don't have to react by trying to prove I'm not weak. Ha! Take that, Pride!
Weakness says power from God.
Now, if only I could remember that!