My Weakness... is enough
In my smallness, I will praise Him
In my weakness and my pain
I will praise Him
Whom have I in heaven, but You?
And ya know, beside You I desire nothing on earth.
My body and my resolve may fail,
but You are the strength of Kathy,
and all I want or need forever. (from Psalm 37)
I sat heavily into the worn, padded seat on the small bus heading into the saddest area of Ndola, Zambia. The before lively group of teenage Zambians grew increasingly quiet, as it seemed the weight of the world descended in their minds.
Those of us with whiter faces were taking it all in, but not really understanding. Brian noticed my cluelessness and explained, “This is one of our graveyards. It is full now, and more graveyards are being developed to bury all our dead.”
I’d never heard of a shortage of graveyards before. What was I doing there, anyway? What did I have to offer this hurting people? Just hours before we had worshipped with them, with their music, with their peers, learning their songs, trying to dance their dances, and now I sat and grieved with them.
It seemed the people on the dirt road felt the heaviness, too, as they plodded along in their Zambian walking rhythm. I must not have looked closely, because I don’t remember seeing graves, just a large plot of earth with no buildings. Maybe I was expecting bleached-white headstones in perfect rows, like I’d seen in military cemeteries.
I told Brian about my helpless feelings, and he reassured me. “It is enough to know that you are here with us. The people can tell that you care.”
With my eyes squinting out the window into the sun, I thought, “but that is just not good enough. I worked hard to get here, and at great expense. I don’t feel that I am contributing anything at all.”
But Brian had said, “it is enough”.
So, in my weakness, I imagined that I was holding up my empty hands to God. What else could I do, but praise Him?
He is God. He rules over all. He comforts the hurting. He heals the broken. He restores what was lost. He promises heaven to those who call out to Him. He works in His mysterious ways, because He is God. I have to trust Him. It is enough.
..............................
In my weakness and my pain
I will praise Him
Whom have I in heaven, but You?
And ya know, beside You I desire nothing on earth.
My body and my resolve may fail,
but You are the strength of Kathy,
and all I want or need forever. (from Psalm 37)
I sat heavily into the worn, padded seat on the small bus heading into the saddest area of Ndola, Zambia. The before lively group of teenage Zambians grew increasingly quiet, as it seemed the weight of the world descended in their minds.
Those of us with whiter faces were taking it all in, but not really understanding. Brian noticed my cluelessness and explained, “This is one of our graveyards. It is full now, and more graveyards are being developed to bury all our dead.”
I’d never heard of a shortage of graveyards before. What was I doing there, anyway? What did I have to offer this hurting people? Just hours before we had worshipped with them, with their music, with their peers, learning their songs, trying to dance their dances, and now I sat and grieved with them.
It seemed the people on the dirt road felt the heaviness, too, as they plodded along in their Zambian walking rhythm. I must not have looked closely, because I don’t remember seeing graves, just a large plot of earth with no buildings. Maybe I was expecting bleached-white headstones in perfect rows, like I’d seen in military cemeteries.
I told Brian about my helpless feelings, and he reassured me. “It is enough to know that you are here with us. The people can tell that you care.”
With my eyes squinting out the window into the sun, I thought, “but that is just not good enough. I worked hard to get here, and at great expense. I don’t feel that I am contributing anything at all.”
But Brian had said, “it is enough”.
So, in my weakness, I imagined that I was holding up my empty hands to God. What else could I do, but praise Him?
He is God. He rules over all. He comforts the hurting. He heals the broken. He restores what was lost. He promises heaven to those who call out to Him. He works in His mysterious ways, because He is God. I have to trust Him. It is enough.
..............................
Comments
Joy usually flows from me. I can usually find a good twist on anything. But before the Throne on Sunday, in the midst of worship, the pain and sorrow in the depths of my heart came bubbling up and even when I could calm the muscles in my face, the tears just kept coming.
For the sermon part, I was sitting by a woman a little younger than me, her two grade-school-age kids and her mother, and after a while she scooted down at her mother's request and the mom came and sat by me. She put an arm across my shoulders and I just tilted my head into hers, and she just quietly worshipped God. After a few minutes (it felt like forever), my eyes stopped gushing and I just felt calmed; and when i looked over at her, her eyes were red and her cheeks were tear-striped. She was indeed carrying my burden with me.
And yes, it was enough. The tenderness, the willingness to share my heart...it was enough.