No, I’m not strong, but that’s ok.

Remember you’re strong, they say. Remember all the stuff you’ve got through, you’ve survived…

Well-intentioned social media memes, meant to encourage, but no, I can’t buy into this – I know the truth, I know how weak I really am, and I know that the fact I’ve survived all that stuff is not down to me. It was God watching over me all along – long before I realised he’s there, long before I discovered that he loves me! Even in those days when I was scoffing at the whole concept of religion, he was there looking after me – that’s what God’s love is like: patient, amazingly patient, and unconditionally faithful. Not waiting for me to sort myself out first, not expecting me to pull myself up by my bootstraps, not putting these burdens on me of having to tell myself I’m strong when I know full well that I’m just a weak, vulnerable human being, and that this life includes some really dark and deep pits that I could never get myself out of.

Remember you’re strong? No. I know I’m not. I remember I’m weak – and that God is strong and he loves me, so I’m safe. Jesus has got me, and he’s taking me to the ultimate place of ultimate safety, and everything that happens in the meantime is just temporary, fleeting, tiny little blips on the way to eternity.

Remember you’ve survived? Yes, I remember stuff that I survived, and how God got me through it! I remember, just as one example, that terrible night back in 1994 when I was out on the streets at 3am with just the clothes I’d been wearing when I ran out of my house, no money, no cellphone, no nothing, because I was running for my life. The one house where I knew for definite I’d be welcome in the middle of the night – those people were fast asleep and didn’t wake up when I knocked and rang their doorbell. Could I have saved myself that night? No, I couldn’t. I walked and walked and walked, not knowing what to do. In my despair, I prayed and asked God to send me an angel. I just really didn’t know what else to say.

A police car suddenly turned up. Are you ok? the policeman asked. No, I’m not…

All’s well that ends well, they say. And this story ended well – not because I was strong, but because someone strong was looking after me. The almighty God himself – he is the one who is strong, he is the one who can rescue people from the deepest darkest pits, he is the one who brought my forefathers out of slavery in Egypt and he is the one who has been getting me out of various pits throughout my life. And he sent his Son to rescue me from the very worst pit, so I know that when this life ends I’m going to be in the best place forever!

Questions? Thoughts? Talk to me - I don't bite :)

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