Tuesday's Bible Reading:
Isaiah 42-43; Proverbs 15:22-33A cover I would like for
Loving God with All My Strength . . .
This morning I took a wailing walk with God (Maggie came along and pretended not to notice my loud laments). This was after a long shower when I let my tears flow until I thought I had none left. I wailed and railed like a seven-year-old having a temper tantrum. I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t do anything
but cry. Yesterday was a bad day—a bad hair day. Once again I have none (or very little), and I’m feeling sorry for myself. It was the result of miscommunication with my hairdresser. I should have stopped her, but I didn’t realize how short she was cutting it until I got outside and tried running my fingers through it, which I couldn't do; it’s like stubble! I liked the feel of having it blow in the wind. Now gale-force winds couldn’t move it. I’m a pinhead. I don’t want to be a pinhead. I don’t want to look like this again. What took all summer to grow is gone. After a half hour of snip, snip, snipping, I look like a boy. I don’t want to look like a boy. Like Samson, whatever strength I had was cut off and then swept away like refuse. I’m an emotional mess. Losing my hair last time was associated with losing my physical strength. Losing it this time has drained my emotional strength. I didn’t realize the reservoir was so depleted. I am empty. Why is losing two inches more traumatic than losing two feet?! It makes no sense. In May I was happy to have this much; now I’m devastated to have this little. I know I should be grateful to have any hair at all. I know I should be grateful that it’s not last year at this time. I know I have much more to be grateful for, and I am. In fact, I know that my distress really has little to do with my hair. That was just the event that opened the floodgate and released all of the insecurities that have been building up. I am well aware of the worth of everything I
have; the problem is that I am feeling worthless about everything
I am. No one seems to need or want the talents and abilities I have. To compensate for my growing inner doubts, I slowly began relying on looking good to salvage some sense of self-worth. Well, so much for that flawed plan! Looking good won’t be an option for quite some time. All day I’ve been reminded of the verse I was thinking about using on the cover of
Loving God with All My Strength. “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 Corinthians 12:10).
Dear God, do I really have to “delight” in this wretched condition before I’ll become strong? How weak do I have to become before strength sets in? I’m a wasteland of insecurities. Is this really the condition you want me in? I have no hair, and my life has no purpose. How much weaker do I have to get? Last year I learned what having no physical strength is like. Must I now experience emotional weakness to the same degree? In humble helplessness I pray that your answer is no. Labels: Maggie, Strength
