Strength of the Strong

When Ryan Hurst’s character Gerry Bertier shouts, “I am too strong!” in ‘Remember the Titans’, my thoughts stutter beyond the intended plot. Gerry was amping himself up for the game; he was the star quarterback and much of the morale and impetus for a game win hinged on him. Instead of following this line of reasoning, my mind picks up its’ all too familiar habit of self analyzing, or as my mother would term it: navel-gazing.

I am too strong. Or rather, until recent years, I have been too strong. Since I do understand some of the fundamentals of the human soul, I am certain I am still too strong in other aspects of my life.

My mother says that I was born with a cigar hanging out of my mouth. Not literally of course, although that would be amazingly funny. Evidently I already knew the intricacies of life to such an extent that the everyday ruminations of my peers were cumbersome; hence I found it necessary to correct and guide my elders into higher realms of thought. Yes, I am quite positive I thought in that vocabulary when I was four.

Not only was I intellectually tough and yearned for a challenge, I was physically strong as well. The constant oppression and abuse in my home life pushed me to entrench myself with strength of character and will. You would think I must have been a difficult child, but I was obedient and conscientious. I had a fear of God and of my parents from an early age. However, if you presented me with a direction that I could see logical flaws in, I felt duty bound to argue the point until the cows came home.

I have long desired God’s hand and presence in my life. My education has had a strong theological thread throughout, and anything I was taught I found necessary to research and examine for myself. I tried to come to conclusions without basing anything on emotion; instead, I chose to believe. It was a mental discipline, not an emotional flight of fancy.

While this may sound fundamentally sound to some, for me my strength was my weakness. I expended so much effort basing my faith in my mind; I excluded anything my emotions could have offered. The greatest tragedy was that I skipped my spirit to understand God with my mind.

The Holy Spirit wants to commune intimately with our spirit. That ‘God breathed’ part of us. Can He speak to our minds and emotions? Absolutely, but only in a fragmented sense. Both our intellect and emotions are affected by our past, our circumstances, our personality, our education. Sometimes it is difficult to hear the voice of God clearly through all the mess. Unless we have been unraveled, that is; broken by God’s hand.

The past few years my circumstances have served to dismantle my strength brick by brick. It has taken a remarkable amount of trial to unhinge me. That is not pride speaking, rather, aggravation. Mistakes compounded by setbacks compounded by gosh darn bad luck. Or was it? God usually knows what He’s doing. Normally I would have just set my jaw and pushed through it. These past two years finally pushed me over the edge. I could barely wash my own hair, let alone keep my kids’ faces clean. The disciplines that were ingrained had been obliterated along with my ability to keep a poker face amidst pain. I could no longer do anything by my own strength.  I have had to relearn self discipline, except this time I have had to hold onto someone’s hand every step of the way.

I find now that when someone calls me strong I feel a rush of humility. They don’t know how much I grasp in the dark for His hand. His strength is a gift; mine can be an encumbrance. It can be my undoing.

When I served in the military there was a passage in Psalms that I quoted to myself when we had training exercises that were particularly challenging:

Psalms 18:29-35 NAS

29 For by You I can run upon a troop; and by my God I can leap over a wall.

30. as for God, His way is blameless; the word of the LORD is tried; He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him.

31. For who is God, but the LORD? And who is a rock, except our God,

32. The God who girds me with strength And makes my way blameless ?

33. He makes my feet like hinds' feet, And sets me upon my high places.

34. He trains my hands for battle, So that my arms can bend a bow of bronze.

35. You have also given me the shield of Your salvation, And Your right hand upholds me; And Your gentleness makes me great.

Did you notice that David is depending on God for everything? God is his source for righteousness, purity, strength and courage. David knew that the gifts that he was born with originated from God and the only way that he could achieve or attain anything was through God.

Samson was a bastion of strength. He was consecrated to God and meant to be a picture of purity and righteousness. He fell, of course, but his last moments were epic. He had been captured, placed in chains and blinded. When he repented and asked God for his strength back, he pushed down the supporting pillars of the building in which were three thousand Philistines. It toppled, crushing all within. In his weakness, God used him.

I always want to stay in my place of weakness. Every moment grasping for God’s hand. Always seeking to hear His voice. Somehow I think He’s got a better grip on things than I do.