Weak

I had always prided myself in being one of the “tougher” girls—not the wimpy, damsel-in-distress types. I enjoyed pushing myself physically. Life as a missionary was stressful and tiring, but I was used to the rigors of “go, go, go,” and I did not stop for much rest.

Chemotherapy came as almost a forced “break” for me and made me finally rest. As my hair began to fall out, I also felt the strength, stamina and energy being sapped from my body.

I had not expected chemo to defeat my body so much. For the two years that I lived in Papua New Guinea, I never got sick once. It’s ironic that we had toted around two boxes of prescription medicine and antibiotics with us everywhere we lived in PNG, yet we never had to use any of them. Now, back in the first-world country of Taiwan, I’ve had to take my first antibiotics in years.

Chemo did that—it compromised my immunity. After my second round of chemo, I caught a cold from my preschooler that lasted for 2 MONTHS STRAIGHT—and I’m not talking mild, sniffly-nose type of cold. I’m talking full-blown, hacking-cough-through-the-night, nonstop-phlegm-and-snot, loss-of-voice type of cold. I’ve never been one to voluntarily take antibiotics, but toward the end of the two months, I was begging for them.

When we were in PNG, we also toted around a big box of first-aid materials like wound dressing, a suture kit and splints. I’m thankful we never had to use any of that, save for regular band-aids for cuts and sores. Now, back in Taiwan, here I go and get my first real injury. It was a freak accident, really. A heavy wooden plank fell on and crushed one of my big toes and it became black, swollen and infected. I endured a month limping around with a thick wad of gauze taped around my toe and—you guessed it—another round of antibiotics.

My time in Taiwan can be summed up in one word: WEAK.

I don’t like being weak.

I don’t like feeling like a patient.

I don’t like having my fitness level fall to an all-time low and becoming one of “those people” who gets the wind knocked out of them after going up one flight of stairs.

I don’t like feeling like a bad mother while my husband—bless his heart—takes care of our three rambunctious boys so that I can get the copious amounts of rest that I need.

I don’t like sitting here in the air-conditioned comfort of a first-world country “doing nothing,” while our teammates sweat and work so hard on the mission field.

But most of all, I don’t like swallowing my pride and admitting that I am weak. You see, my pride doesn’t want me looking “weak” and “useless” and “lazy.” My pride doesn’t want me to stop playing the part of super mom and tribal missionary. My pride wants me to be the tough one, the one who can do everything, be everything to everyone, and get accolades from all around.

Becoming physically weak came as a shock to me because, for so many years, I had taken for granted my health and my ability to be productive. In my quest to prove myself strong and useful, I had lost sight of God’s provision, enabling and grace; instead, I had confidently relied on my own capabilities, hoping that through them, I would get the praise I deserved.

And so, just as He had seen fit to grant me good health and productivity for the past 40 years, He also saw fit to take part of that health away and to use this period of weakness to expose my “idol of self.”

Throughout Scripture, God repeatedly uses human weakness to accomplish His purposes. He doesn’t accomplish His purposes in spite of their weaknesses, but rather, through their weaknesses.

He chose a barren couple, 100-year-old Abraham and 90-year-old Sarah—both way past childbearing years and “as good as dead” (Heb 11:12)—to bring forth a nation so populous they resembled the stars in the sky and the sand on the seashore.

He chose Moses, the timid, introverted stutterer, to be His greatest spokesperson in the Old Testament.

He chose David, a teenage shepherd boy too small to fit in a soldier’s armor and wield a sword, to defeat the enemy’s champion giant fighter Goliath with a single pebble.

These real examples in the Bible show us that human weakness is the vehicle through which God often chooses to show His power. Why?

Because He gets the glory that way.

When we attempt to accomplish things through our own physical strength, mental competence, social acuteness, professional expertise, or even our spiritual discipline, we are amassing glory for ourselves and serving our “idol of self.”

But when God humbles us and strips away those things we considered “strengths” until we are weak—and we realize we can’t do anything in and of ourselves and are totally dependent on Him—He alone accomplishes the impossible and He gets the glory.

“The foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men…. God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong…. As result, no one can ever boast in the presence of God.”

1 Cor 1:25-29

In his second letter to the Corinthian church, the apostle Paul tells of the troubles he went through while ministering in the province of Asia: “We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead.” (2 Cor 1:8-9)

Through suffering, God taught Paul to stop relying on himself and instead rely on God. At the end of the same letter, however, Paul revealed that he still struggled with the temptation of boasting in his own strength and “spiritual superiority.”

“Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.” (2 Cor 12:7)

Many have conjectured as to what this thorn in the flesh could be. Perhaps it was a serious physical ailment? A personal enemy? A stressful circumstance? We don’t know. But whatever it was, it was bad news, and Paul didn’t like it one bit.

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” (2 Cor 12:8)

Why didn’t God answer Paul’s sincere prayers for something so horrible to be taken away? It was the same old lesson: Stop relying on your own strength—which is not strength at all—and rely on God, who has the power to raise the dead!

“Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor 12:9-10)

Paul learned that only when he stopped trusting and boasting in his own strength could God’s power be revealed through his weaknesses. Therefore, Paul was content—even delighted—to remain in those weaknesses so that God could use them as His vehicles to accomplish His purposes. And God would get the glory.

As for me, I don’t understand exactly why God allowed for this cancer to attack my body right at the point when we had just begun our ministry in the village. I don’t know why He took us off the mission field when there is still so much work to be done. But I do know this: He allowed me to become weak that I would stop trusting and boasting in my own so-called strength, but trust and boast in Him instead.

And so now, I am content to “move aside” and watch what only God can do through my weakness…so that He alone gets the glory.