I've been thinking a lot lately about the idea of finding strength in my weaknesses. For the longest time I knew I had come across this concept somewhere--I thought maybe in the Bible or in a song, but I couldn't remember specifically what the context was--and it's been nagging at me. Yesterday it finally dawned on me that the reference I was seeking was in a Madeline L'Engle's classic novel A Wrinkle in Time.
I haven't read this novel in many years, though we listened to it in the car on a road trip maybe three years ago, so I don't remember all the details exactly, but essentially teenage Meg "tessers" to another planet to rescue her father and younger brother from the grasp of a mind-controlling entity called "IT" (I think). When Meg is going off to face the entity alone, someone (I can't remember who) tells her to use her weaknesses as her strengths. This puzzles Meg, but as she confronts "IT," who has pretty much taken over her brother's mind, she realizes her stubbornness, which she'd always thought of as a weakness, gives her the determination to not give up on her brother. That's about the gist of what I kind of remember.
Why this particular scene from this particular novel has stuck in my mind I can't say, but it's really made me think hard about how I can generate strength from my weaknesses. Of course, the first step in my self-analysis is to think honestly about my weaknesses, which is about as fun as standing outside in the snow barefoot. But I did it--on my 40-mile drive home from work last night, I tried to list all my weaknesses in my head. I'm not gonna lie; it was depressing. After filtering through them all, I narrowed the list down to one weakness that seems to impact quite significantly the choices I've made and continue to make in my life: I'm a chicken.
That's right. The cowardly lion has nothing on me; my second language is bawk, bawk, be-gawk.
Let me clarify: I'm not lacking in courage when it comes to new experiences (except those involving great heights or considerable risk to my person). I am, however, incredibly inhibited when it comes to dealing with people. I suppose there's a fine line between being chicken and being reserved. I'm an introvert, and there's nothing wrong with that. But when fear dictates my actions (though fear of what I'm not quite sure), that sounds like squawking to me.
When I was little, I was afraid to ask a clerk in a store for help. In college, I got all nervous before calling Dominos to order a pizza. Fortunately, those kinds of things don't bother me anymore like they did when I was a spring chicken. Still, to me, being in a social situation with a group of people I don't know well makes me more uncomfortable than when I'm at the dentist getting a cavity filled. Okay, so I've never had a cavity, but I imagine getting a filling would not be on any one's bucket list.
I don't know what it is about people that intimates me so much. I guess maybe I'm afraid they won't like me, but that seems too easy an explanation. Or maybe I just worry too much about what people think. When I was teaching classes at a local college, I absolutely dreaded student evaluations because I took any feedback that could be interpreted as negative personally. Constructive criticism is one thing; I value knowing ways I can improve myself or my work, but when students would complain about the textbook (which I didn't choose) or would say I was a bad teacher because they were failing (which they believed was my fault even though they didn't do the work--see I'm getting defensive), I felt terrible, like who I am to as a person was being dragged under the bus when that really wasn't what student evaluations were about.
The area where my chicken-ness bothers me the most is when it comes to reaching out to people. Our church hosts the homeless once a month every year and asks for volunteers to help people settle in and feel at home. When our family volunteered a few years ago, I could smile and say hello, but actually emitting warmth and welcome by reaching out, engaging people in conversation, giving hugs, what have you, I couldn't do. This bothered me because I don't think I'm a cold person, but when I'm trying to connect with people whose experiences I know nothing of, I can't think of what to say or do, and so I chicken out and to very little.
Okay, so I've analyzed my weakness as much as I can without professional intervention. Now the question is, what can I do with it? I suppose one way to look at my weakness is to realize that my inner chicken has no doubt kept me from making any number of big mistakes that might come from leaping before looking. Also, given my fear of people in numbers, I've gravitated more toward developing one-on-one relationships, which is great.
The heart of the matter, though, is figuring out how I can use my weakness to glorify God. I think being chicken causes me to turn to God for help every time I know I'm going to be in a situation where it would be really easy to be afraid and run away. My inclination toward cowardice pushes me to really lean on the Lord when I step into a place where I know shining his light is going to mean I'm uncomfortable. I've been inclined to not do things that involve reaching out to people because I'm afraid; being aware of my weakness helps me trust that I'm never alone and that God can use me regardless of my reluctance. But I want to be joyful, so I pray for that too. I wonder if Jesus called me out on the water to him whether I would sink. My prayer is that I have to courage to go where I'm lead, knowing that weakness and all I am a beloved daughter of Christ; he's my strength.
I'm seeking out a coward's boldness. How's that for an oxymoron?
2 Corinthians 12:9:-)
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