A few years ago, I had a season when weakness seemed to stalk me. I felt unsuccessful and drained—spiritually, mentally, and physically. The project I was working on had demanded all my creative energy and left me raw. I had put myself "out there," fully exposed and vulnerable, and yet the work wasn't finished. In frustration, I muttered complaints under my breath, convinced that my weakness was a liability.

My husband gently reminded me to embrace my humanity—to see weakness not as failure, but as part of what it means to be human and to run to the Lord. At the moment, I wanted no part of weakness. I wanted to struggle through and get the project done quickly. But the Lord, in His providence, would soon press that truth into my heart in a way I couldn't ignore.

A few days later, one of our beloved outdoor cats, Daniel Tiger, suddenly stopped walking. This once-vigorous, long-haired wanderer—our Danny Boy, who climbed barn roofs and roamed the woods as if he owned them—could now only drag himself along with his front legs. I found myself doing everything for him: moving him, feeding him, cleaning him, bathing him. The cat who had once lived like a king of the wild now lay dependent on me for every need.

Over the following weeks, Daniel Tiger's fierce independence faded. He no longer ran from me; instead, he looked to me for everything. And as I cared for him, he purred—not with the wild freedom of before, but with the quiet contentment of one who knows his needs and knows he is cared for and loved.

In those long hours of tending to him, I began to see myself. I, too, was a creature who wanted to be strong and independent. I, too, resisted weakness. But here was the truth I could not escape: weakness has a way of forcing us to receive that which we would never ask for in our strength.

Why embrace such weakness? Why had my husband urged me toward it?

Because, as I've heard it said, weakness is not a dead end for the Christian—it's an open door. In Christ, weakness is the place where we come to the end of our own resources and receive a strength that is not our own. It is where the righteousness of Another clothes us, where the power of God is put on display in fragile vessels of clay.

I had been reading through the Gospel of Mark during that season, and the scene in chapter 4 came alive to me:

"And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat… But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, 'Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?' And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, 'Peace! Be still!'… He said to them, 'Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?'"

—Mark 4:37–40

I used to think Jesus' rebuke of the disciples was harsh. Of course, they were afraid—they thought they were about to die! But perhaps this was His point: they assumed that His stillness meant He didn't care. And isn't that what we are tempted to believe in our weak moments, when life feels out of control?

Jesus had never failed them before. He had met needs, healed the sick, and fed thousands—but in their moment of fear and weakness, they forgot who was in the boat with them.

Wait--is this the key to embracing weakness? Bucking the knee-jerk reaction of assuming that God doesn't care? What would Jesus have wanted them to do differently? He had been with them so long. What had he done when there was a need? Did He shake His fist at situations? No, He went to the Father and faithfully prayed. He showed us what it looked like to be dependent on the Father. In the Garden of Gethsemane, as He faced death, He prayed that the Father would let the cup pass from Him.

And there was a man who came after Jesus. Paul, convinced of and intimately aware of His union with Christ, prayed when the thorns of life exasperated him. Instead of plowing through life and ministry, he prayed in his weakness. Paul's persistent prayer for a thorn to be removed was not answered as he had hoped. 

So I wonder again. Why embrace that kind of weakness? What's the point?

The upside-down world of the Bible is about to turn and make sense to my heart and mind. Paul said, "When I am weak, then I am strong." Weakness drove Paul to pray, yes. And as Jesus faced the laying down of His life, He prayed prayers for the cup to pass from Him. And God's way of answering resulted in His power being displayed.

Paul proclaimed:

"For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:10

Paul was able to put the power of God on display rather than relying on his own. In his suffering, the strength of God was made known. And couldn't we say much more so in Jesus' life? For it is in Jesus' seemingly weakest moment that the power of the cross and resurrection came.

He [Christ] made himself nothing

    by taking the very nature of a servant,

    being made in human likeness.

 And being found in appearance as a man,

    He humbled himself

    by becoming obedient to death—

        even death on a cross! 

           -Philippians 2:6-7

Daniel Tiger didn't recover. The day I carried him to the vet to be put down, I felt the rawness of my own smallness. I couldn't stop death. I couldn't fix what was broken. But I could look to the One who did conquer death and who promises to never leave nor forsake His own.

And in that moment, I understood: Christ in the boat is better than a storm-free sea. Christ in the valley is better than a quick escape. Whether He calms the waves or carries us through them, He is always working for His glory and our good. He is always telling a story of His power in our weakness. 

You now know a little bit about my story of weakness, Daniel Tiger's story of weakness, and Paul's story of weakness and his confidence in the power of Christ. 

So I ask you—are you in a season of weakness? Will you view it as a curse to be avoided, or as a strange and holy gift? What story might God tell through YOUR weakness?

Weakness, in the hands of our sovereign God, is never wasted. It is the very place where the strength of Christ meets the fragility of His children, and there, we find that His grace truly is sufficient.

I seek to help others see truth in tangible ways through life coaching. Sometimes during our coaching sessions, I'll encourage a client to take an index card and write down a false belief on one side and a Biblical truth on the other side. In this case, we used a horse instead of an index card! I'll never forget the two sides. "This is too much"—and —"When I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10). This really helped me remember to connect the truth to the untruth.

So the question is: Which side will you turn toward? The lie that weakness will destroy you—or the truth that in Christ, weakness can become the very place His strength is made perfect?

Have you ever lamented about your weakness?

I have found that lamenting isn't just for seasons of sorrow and grief, but for everyday repentance and living by faith in the midst of sin, unbelief, distrust, disappointments, irritations, and even moments of weakness. By signing up for the Curators of Grace newsletter, you will receive freebies, including the CHRIST acronym for remembering how to lament for living by faith and repentance. Click below for the link:

I want my free lament acronym guide

Linking up this week with: