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Writer's pictureKaty Hollamby

Living with a limp




Dear friend,


I do not like feeling weak. I do not like feeling vulnerable. I want to be strong and brave. I think the word we use instead of strong is often capable. We want to be seen as competent and capable. Able to cope with whatever life throws at us. Strong for other people. Strong emotionally to cope with circumstances changing and to make ourselves happy. Strong physically so we don’t get sick. Strong mentally so we can figure anything out and get control of it so it won’t overwhelm us. Strong is big in our culture. Weak is bad.


I think I’ve often assumed God sees it the same way. I have thought that God wants to take our weakness and change it so we are strong. He is in the business of transformation, so the goal must be making us into a sort of Jesus-following super hero. This way people will see how awesome we are and want to be like us. Recently however I have begun to see this very differently.


In the Old Testament there is a story about a man called Jacob. (Genesis 33:22) A slightly dodgy character who tricks and lies his way through his life to get blessings and inheritance. He is estranged from his family, but later God tells him in a dream to go back home. He is understandably anxious about reuniting with his brother Esau as Jacob stole his blessing from him, and Esau is coming out to meet him with four hundred men. This definitely looks like an army. Jacob sends out huge gifts to Esau to placate him in advance - 220 goats, 220 sheep, 30 camels, 20 cows and 10 donkeys. He even sends his wife and children and servants first. He is clearly concerned that his brother will not accept him back without some serious sucking up.


This is like me often. I play my strengths in order to deal with my life. I come up with a plan and I play the best hand I have to keep my fears at bay. In wanting to avoid failure I will send in my best ideas - coming up with clever plans to make sure I can succeed. Being prepared for every eventuality, or creating an awesome schedule to make sure everything is achieved. In trying to avoid feeling unliked I will do everything I can to make someone think well of me. I hate feeling weak physically so I drink strategically drink coffee instead to try and ward off feeling vulnerable or tired. Often those things leave me exactly where Jacob ends up. Alone. And still with this foreboding sense of an approaching, overwhelming army that I can not deal with. It’s not actually brave either. Hiding behind your “strengths” is like sending your children out to face an army in front of you. Cowardly.


Then as Jacob waits for the morning God comes and wrestles with him. Jacob says he will not let God go until he has his blessing.


I have been here. The long dark night where you can not rest or settle because you don’t believe you have God’s blessing. The night where you do not feel safe, you do not feel loved, you do not believe God is with you. This is the death part of resurrection. The worst! Sometimes this is years not hours. And yet Jacob gets through to the other side. He does not give up. And God renames him “Israel” which means ‘he struggled with God.’ I love this. It’s so encouraging that not only did God honour his wrestling by giving it to him as a name, he named a whole nation - his chosen nation - after him. Clearly God thinks that wrestling with him and forcing him to bless us and come through on his promises to us, is worth celebrating.


Then comes the bit I never understood. During the fight God has wrenched Jacob’s hip out of his socket. And at the end Jacob limps off. Even when the fight is over and God has blessed Jacob. Why?!! Surely God wants to fix him up so he is healed and shiny. Surely he should replace the hip with an unbelievable bionic hip so that it turns out to be his strength in the end. ‘And Jacob ran off and was never weak or had to wrestle again.’


I guess that’s the exact point. His limp is his strength. His weakness is his strength.


In Corinthians 2 Paul is talking about wanting to be made strong, wanting to be free of a “thorn in his flesh” that torments him. And he asks God to get rid of his weakness, but God doesn’t. He says to Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, because my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12) God wants Paul weak.


For anyone who has seen the Narnia films, there is this awesome moment when Lucy stands on a bridge with a massive army coming towards her armed with nothing but a little dagger. It looks ridiculous. And then Aslan comes up behind her and absolutely destroys the army. So awesome. In the moment when Aslan turns up behind her, Lucy stops looking ridiculous and weak and starts looking fiercely brave and beautiful. She has something special with Aslan. They are together. Her weakness shows him for who he is. Her faithfulness in her weakness, her honesty about her weakness, makes Aslan’s strength, Aslan’s wonderfulness, so powerful. Her weakness means she gets to be with Aslan.


It’s the David and Goliath moment, when David (a small shepherd armed with 5 stones) faces up to a 9ft giant. David knows who is behind him. He knows God is enough. And so he owns his weakness with no shows of strength, refusing the kings armour. His weakness shows he must have God on his side.


“All those gathered here will know that is not by the sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give all of you into our hands.” (1 Samuel 17:47)


It is our weakness that shows how wonderful Jesus is. The battle is his.


This is my verse over and over at the moment. “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” (Isaiah 30:15) I refuse to be weak. I refuse to rest when I could be busy making myself feel better. I argue with my anxiety. I fight my circumstances to make them easier. I hide away from God because I would rather pretend I am ok. I do not want to wrestle. I do not want to face my fears or the future. I would rather work very hard and at least feel like I’m coping and strong. I certainly don’t want anyone else to see my weakness, the things I struggle with. I don’t publicise the days I go crazy at my children or my husband, or feel overwhelmingly anxious or stressed. I try to ignore my anxiety when it is eating me up. I don’t want people to know that I have done very little at all of normal life for the last week because my body hasn’t let me. I don’t want people to see my ridiculous house in all its mess and chaos because it looks like I’m not coping. I don’t want people know it was months since I cooked a proper meal. I don’t want to write this list. I want you to think that even though I have battles, I am still strong. But I’m not. I am weak and I cry and I’m not very kind or loving or faithful most of the time. I worry that God is not with me. That he is not enough for me. Most of all that I am not enough for him. I can not be strong. I am weak.

”Apart from me, you can do nothing.” John 15:5


But I have Jesus behind me.

So my weakness is my strength. The fact that I need him is beautiful because it shows off his power, his kindness and his relevance in my life. In my weakness I have space for Jesus to come along behind me. I need to hear his voice blessing me, which means I get to hear it. His voice! Speaking to me. Sometimes just a whisper is powerful enough to lift everything off me. I need to see his hand rescue me, which means I get to see his wonderful hand doing beautiful things. I get to see his intervention into impossible situations. I get to see his kindness and grace when I do not deserve what I am given. I need his help to get me through the day, which means I get his perfect, beautiful and lovely help, often in unexpected and precious ways. I need his peace to unravel my anxiety, which means I get to find peace which makes no sense in light of the circumstances. I may not be thankful for the circumstances, but I am thankful that I am weak so I can face them with Jesus.


So I will wrestle with Jesus until the morning. Until in repentance and rest I find salvation, and quietness and trust become my strength. Not my strength. His strength. I will keep wrestling until I am weak. until I let go of the things I am trying to use to make me strong. I will accept weak, because then he can be my strong.


“He must become greater; I must become less.” (John 3:30)


Katy x

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