I am so weak. A loud bang can set my heart pounding and I begin to spiral into a panic attack. I have to pull myself together and find peace. Peace from what? A loud noise, really? The smallest trigger can launch my chest into a high level of anxiety that can take the whole day to come down from. I will lie in my bed drifting closer to sleep when a flash of anxiety erupts in my lungs and throws my body upright with a desperate gasp for air.
Time after time, day after day I feel the stains of depression on my skin. I begin to feel as though my existence is laced with a monochromatic, pessimistic, tenebrific, neurotic and somewhat melodramatic pain. My own mind becomes draining. My mother affectionately calls me her little mushroom and depression laces my response that I am indeed. I am just not the cute little plant but rather the mass of dead dark depressive cloud that looms over a wasteland after a nuclear blast has been birthed.
God, why would you choose me? You see how often I fail. You see how often I stray from your lead. You see me to the depths of my soul. You see me. Why would you choose me? You know I am weak. You know I fear easily. You know I am easily led by my emotions. You know me. Why would you choose me? You hear me speak but not listen. You hear my heart beat faster as fear keeps coming. Why LORD?! What God are you that you should choose me? Some would say you are mad? How? How can you be so good?
In the silence of my suffocated weeping, you simply say “my mercy and grace is sufficient”. When Paul lamented to you of His pain and begged for you to take it away, you simply said your grace is sufficient.
I don’t know how I could ever fathom the reach of your grace while I am trapped in this body. Oh God, oh God. I am so sorry. I am so so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me for betraying your love over and over. Thank you. Thank you so much for having mercy on my wretched soul. Your grace is sufficient. I surrender.
Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:8-10