Weakness

Back 40 years ago, when Ginny and I were driving a truck cross country, there was a joke I’d play on her.

After a particularly heavy day, when I felt so tired I could hardly move, I’d say, “Call St. George. Call St. George”.

“Why call St. George,” she asked?

“Cause my ass is a draggin”!

Well, maybe you’d have to have been there to see how funny that joke is.

The Lord told St. Paul, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness”.

This divine message uplifted Paul.

Good for him.

This week for me, on the other hand, …

“Call St. George! Call St. George!”

All that to say, I’m really weary.

An e-mail from my eldest daughter yesterday morning asked me to give a devotional presentation at our family Christmas get-together at her house.

When I read that my heart dropped.

I feel depleted. Wiped out. Weary. Empty. I have no clever demonstration of some Nativity scripture to present. I just have nothing.

Jennifer wants something special and I just have nothing to offer.

Call St. George.

I called her last night to wish her a happy birthday (I had no present for her either this year) and told her I don’t think I can do it. I felt so bad about that. She so seldom asks me for anything; and here when she does, I fall through.

A radio news bulletin yesterday afternoon announced that a major explosion and fire forced the evacuation of a large area near an industrial park north of town. Four people died and 14 were hospitalized. Nearly a hundred firefighters, rescue and HAZMAT personnel responded. The explosion blew up a plant which makes gasoline additives and the plume of smoke was visible from 20 miles away…

When I heard that news, my heart dropped.

Did I pray for the victims? Did I pray about the toxic cloud? Did I pray for the injured? Did I pray for the firefighters?

No.

When I heard the news bulletin, my first thought was, “O Crap! Now I’ll have to write another damn section updating my fire history book”.

Weary. Worn out. Weak. Exhausted…

I’ve pulled some boxes, about a third, of our Christmas decorations out of storage but I’ve not even had the stamina to unpack them. We just may go without decorating our home at all this year.

Then Ginny came home from work last night sniffling and coughing with a major cold. Poor kitten is so sick, yet it was all I could bring myself to do to microzap a frozen tv dinner for our supper. She may have to call in sick today — she’s only called in sick three times in the eleven years she’s been working there. I may be nursing her this weekend.

How can I go on when I’ve reached the end of my rope physically, emotionally, spiritually?

What a downer.

Yet… yet, even in weakness we can go on.

When we were yet without strength, Christ died for the ungodly.

He did not come to rescue heroes.

Right after Paul told about the encouraging message he received about God’s grace being sufficient for him, he went on to say, “Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me”.

In another place he says, “Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day”.

Tell St. George to stand down and put away his spear.

I’m gonna make it after all.

I may not overcome but, by the power of the Living Christ, I just may muddle through.