Have you ever had the misfortune of hearing, "I'm not strong like you" or "I would break under such grief"? Haven't we all thought those things about someone? Maybe not, maybe it's just me that is weak.
I remember when our Pastor and his wife's baby was stillborn. I remember thinking that would be one of the worst things -- to go through 9 months of pregnancy and even labor for a dead child. I am not strong. My faith is small and weak. I rely on myself much too often. Then Ian died and I discovered that God really does provide the grace for every trial.
Another friend thought one of the hardest things would be to raise a handicapped child. Then God gave them a handicapped son. They discover day by day that God really is sufficient.
I use to think how I would just collapse if I lost my husband. Now that my brother has died and I see how God provides what my sister-in-law needs, even through her grief, I know that minute by minute, I would trudge forward. Fear slowly dissolves.
Although loss is such a pure grief, sin's grief is shame. Can I endure that? Unfortunately, I have experienced that as well. Crushing, but yes, even for that God's grace is sufficient.
God's grace is sufficient. It can sound so trite. Like saying war is awful. From me it would sound flippant, but you would believe if you heard it from a soldier who has crawled through stinking trenches, ran across a dark field under enemy fire, survived crushed bones and shrapnel, or watched his best friend painfully die. His words may sound the same, but they would have a world of difference behind them. When I say God is sufficient, I wish I could convey the world of questions, of tears, of fighting, and yes of peace that is behind them.
So what does strength look like? On Wednesday my husband and I drove over a bridge leading to the south side of town. We were surprised to see an ambulance and police cars parked at both ends and wondered if there had been an accident. Then I gasped as we saw him. A young man sitting off below the edge with a rope around his neck. What pain brought him to this point? What hopelessness? My heart ached for him. We prayed for his life. This world is so full of pain. Does strength mean we do not acknowledge that we are hurting? Does it mean we cannot cry? Does it mean we have to continue to take care of responsibilities? Perhaps in our weakness, strength is just hope. Hope not to end our lives because we believe that even in the midst of our agony God still has a plan and a future for us. Perhaps strength is just faith. Faith that He is still good and He still loves me. The boy's life was saved, but will he find faith and hope -- the strength to go on. Will he find that God's grace is sufficient?