thing #1: accepting weakness

First sequel to this post.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.
-2 Corinthians 4:7

Ophelia by J.W. Waterhouse

I don't like feeling frail . . . I certainly don't like it when other people see me as such. In fact, I tend to view dependence as a moral failure. As if I ought to be able to run my life in a self-sufficient, airtight little sphere and if I can't something has gone terribly wrong.

Foolish me. I'm not meant to be alone. Even in the best of worlds, I am only a creature. And this is not the best of worlds-- it's bent by sin. Left to myself I'll run straight off the path, thanks to sin within, and my day can brim with hurdles and frustrations thanks to sin without. I need help!

In my physical struggles I have heard, however faintly, God's voice. What is He telling me? Just that: I need help. It's an inherent part of who I am. I like to forget it, to pretend that I live by my own strength, but God reminds me.

When I have to take Benadryl just to get to sleep. When I feel as if I live with a bottle of moisturizer glued to my hand. When I can't scrub away, paint over, or in any way obliterate the blemishes on my face. He reminds me. It's impossible to maintain the pretense of independence while I rely on a cold washcloth to keep me sane, or tremble at the thought of a campfire because I know that the dry heat will aggravate the inflammation. Yes, I am quite frail. Can I accept that? I'm trying. God is working acceptance in me.