It has been
one of those weeks, or should I say "weaks". My humanness,
my weakness, my inability to change myself stares me in the face
like a bad hairdo in a hurricane. But I am not alone. Paul felt
the same way when he wrote, "we hold this treasure in
earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and
not from us" (2 Cor 4:7). We are clay jars, or better
yet, "cracked pots".
A cracked pot is useless when it comes to
holding water or wine, which is what they used earthen vessels
for 2000 years ago. So it is with us when it comes to holiness.
All of us have areas in our lives we want to change. So we furrow
our brow and roll up sleeves; we convince ourselves we can do
it; we grit our teeth, bracing for the next tremor; we chide
our past, beat ourselves up, and beg God's mercy for tomorrow...
but nothing seems to change. We begin to despair: the water and
wine of our own efforts, though momentarily inspiring, have slowly
seeped through the cracks of our humanness -- our weakness.
It seems as though God isn't helping? Or is
he?
Jesus said to Paul, "My grace is sufficient
for you, for power is made perfect in weakness" (2 Cor 12:9).
God desires to help us, but he doesn't do it all at once. It
seems that weakness keeps us in our place. What was the sin of
Adam, but trying to become like God. Pride is the sin. Pride
is what will fall even the saintliest of saints. Our weakness,
which translates into a need for God, can be an instrument of
grace: when we begin to distrust ourselves, we will look to someone
else for help.
It is God's intention to make us perfect,
"as your heavenly Father is perfect." God will strengthen
us, but only when we accept our state and our need for God. Some
of us carry the same faults for years because we refuse to admit
they're there, and that we can do nothing on our own to get rid
of them.
Then some of us go the other way. We beat
ourselves up when we fall into sin. We call ourselves names and
cry out, "Oh, what a wretch I am." We punish ourselves
by becoming depressed (and punish everyone else at the same time).
But Nicodemus of the Holy Mountain says this kind of attitude
towards our weakness is rooted in pride: "the more gloomy
and disconsolate their grief, the more it shows that they relied
too much on themselves and too little on God." Rather,
says St. Francis de Sales, one should correct oneself with compassion
saying, "Cheer up, now, poor heart of mine! See! We have
fallen into the pit which we had so firmly resolved to avoid.
Well, let us rise again and quit this place for ever. Let us
implore the mercy of God, let us hope that it will help us to
be stronger for the future, and let us humbly resume the road.
Courage! We must be henceforth be more vigilant, and God will
assist us."
I remember one day while in poustinia (a place
of solitude), the Lord seemed to speak very clearly: "Weakness
is not sin." It cut through my broken soul like a sword
through a cobweb. I was punishing myself for being weak. Then
the Spirit whispered: "Jesus came and took on this very
weakness, yet was without sin." I was born with a weak
human nature; only God, who knows what it's like first-hand to
be susceptible to temptation, can bring the power to help me
rise above it.
The doorway to transformation is humility; it is the foundation
of every virtue. Humility is the conviction that if left to myself,
I will surely mess things up. When we accept this in humility
and begin to act each day and each hour and each minute in dependence
upon God and his strength, then he will find a way into our hearts
-- through the cracks we tried to hide. Then, using the
mortar of his Son's body and blood, the Father begins to fill
our cracks and weaknesses with the virtue of his Son.
In time, we will become stronger and more
holy like Jesus. Looking back, we will see that it was all God's
doing; that he intended to do this all along. And with Paul we
will say, "Therefore, I am content with weaknesses...
for when I am weak, then I am strong" (1 Cor 12:10).
-- Mark Mallett
