Strength in Weakness

by Christa Flannery

By the time my children were in bed this evening, I was utterly exhausted. The kids seemed to be extra ornery this evening. Brian was working late, leaving me to fend for myself. I am out-numbered. Five to one isn't great odds in my favor. But we did it, everyone was jammied, kissed and sent to bed. Then I collapsed.

Sometimes I wonder if I really have the strength to do this, to raise these kids well. Looking back on my day, there are a few things that I could have handled a little better. I could have been a little more patient, a little more loving, a little less hurried. In my moments of self evaluation and questioning, I am reminded of this story from Hannah Whitall Smith's "The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life":

I was once visiting a [mentally handicapped home] and looking at the children going through [hand-bell] exercises. Now we all know that it is a very difficult thing for [the handicapped] to manage their movements. They have strength enough, generally, but no skill to use this strength, and as a consequence cannot do much. And in these [hand-bell] exercises this deficiency was very apparent. They made all sorts of awkward movements. Now and then, by a happy chance, they would make a movement in harmony with the music and the teacher’s directions, but for the most part all was out of harmony. One little girl, however, I noticed, who made perfect movements. Not a jar nor a break disturbed the harmony of her exercises. And the reason was, not that she had more strength than the others, but that she had no strength at all. She could not so much as close her hands over the [hand-bells], nor lift her arms, and the master had to stand behind her and do it all. She yielded up her members as instruments to him, and his strength was made perfect in her weakness. He knew how to go through those exercises, for he himself had planned them, and therefore when he did it, it was done right. She did nothing but yield herself up utterly into his hands, and he did it all. The yielding was her part, the responsibility was all his. It was not her skill that was needed to make harmonious movements, but only his. The question was not of her capacity, but of his. Her utter weakness was her greatest strength.

And if this is a picture of our Christian life, it is no wonder that Paul could say, “Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” Who would not glory in being so utterly weak and helpless, that the Lord Jesus Christ should find no hindrance to the perfect working of His mighty power through us and in us?

While everyone around me is making New Year's resolutions, I simply want to rest in my weakness. This mom thing is exhausting but I know that God's strength is perfected in that weakness. Whether we have one child or five under three years, we need Jesus. Rather than trying harder this year, why not surrender to the only one who can play it right every time?