a surrender - 70

(Continuing "a surrender", chapter nine, "God doesn't need our help") 

There’s a letter by one of Jesus’ early followers, in which the writer says he prayed that a certain weakness, a “thorn in the flesh,” might be removed from his life. He prayed this again and again. But God didn’t remove it. Because, God told him, “my power is made perfect in weakness.”

We human beings, though, individually and as societies, are not content with weakness. Weakness means vulnerability. Which means danger. So we work very hard to build up our strength. And we organize ourselves, to combine our strengths into something even more powerful. This power is impressive, greater than any of us, and it gives us hope. A hope we cling to. No matter how many times our organizations fail us—our governments, our corporations, our unions, our hospitals, our churches—still we cling desperately to this hope. The “power of the people” will save us. It must.

But Jesus avoided this power, and he embraced weakness. He chose to be poor. He gathered no political party, led no army. Instead, he trusted that the power of God would provide for him and his followers, and protect them. He chose to be weak because God is strong. And God’s power is made perfect in weakness.

Despite our continual pursuit of strength, sooner or later each of us must face our weakness. Maybe it’s in a monastery garden, when our life has fallen apart. Maybe it’s when we realize that we are not the hero we thought we would be. Maybe it’s when we admit that we are an alcoholic. Maybe it’s when we accept that our organization will not survive. Maybe it’s when we look in the mirror and discover that we are old. In that moment, we have a choice. Cling to our hope that our strength will always return, ever stronger—or admit that our strength, even the strength of all of us together, isn’t enough. Isn’t enough to stop the pain, the hunger, the lies, the isolation, the death. Not even within ourselves. And it will never be enough. If we can admit that, then we are close to surrender, to faith, close to embracing our weakness, and trusting God’s power instead of our own.

We face that choice again and again in our lives. Each time it is more difficult. Though I had walked thousands of miles, the first step with Heather by my side was the most difficult. And the two of us losing our place to live was nothing compared to the possibility of losing our home when we had Ian with us. I often think of that story of Peter walking on the water. I’m sure his first step was frightening. But he was still close to the boat then, he could easily get back to it if he needed to. Then he took another step. And another. He was getting pretty far from the boat. A few more steps and he wasn’t sure if he could swim back in time. Each step took him further away from safety, each step made him feel more deeply how vulnerable he was. Though he had made it a long way, it didn’t get easier. Because each step was a greater risk, each step was more impossible than the last.

But that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that it’s impossible for us. It doesn’t matter that, even if we could manage to all work together, we still wouldn’t have the strength to stop the evil and suffering in the world. It doesn’t matter. Because God never asked us to. God never put the world in our hands. God doesn’t need our help.

Continued...