I give my body a bad rap. Like the guy handing out flyers on the street corner, so are my comments about this vessel God provided me. Weak joints resulting in many separations and a couple dislocations. Weak back resulting in days laid out on pain killers for even the simplest wrong stretch in the morning. White hairs growing stark against dark hair, refusing to be covered, and coming much sooner than anticipated. A brain so gifted at pulling together random facts also spends a decent amount of time feeling scattered.
And then a day happens like Monday. Witting in the vibrating car for 10 hours would normally do me in–days of back soreness would follow if my anti-inflammatory dosage were wrong. But I forgot. The bottle next to me the whole trip, and I forgot over and over. After such a failure, I would feel it for days. But this time my back held up–and I still forgot about the anti-inflammatories because my back did not hurt.
In a strange way, I was proud of my body for making it, grabbing strength needed for the trip, even when I kept forgetting the auxiliary help. It gives a light of hope that maybe pain won’t mark my experience so often anymore.
I wonder if that is how God sees what we would call meager accomplishments in the faith. We stumble and fall in our weakness, but God celebrates. We roll our eyes as we fail…again…but God throws a party that this time we believed just a little more, just a little longer before we gave in to fear and doubt. We give our walk a bad rap, but He sees the daily victories as huge.
Maybe our weakness provides ample opportunity for heavenly celebrations as we get just a little stronger. Maybe God wants us to glory, to feel His delight, that not every stumble is the same, and every single victory is worth rejoicing.
Maybe we need to stop being so hard on ourselves and trust God’s standard of measure: that a tiny faith can move mountains, that grace means abundant living without being perfect.
Image by Riyas Hamza