Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. —Leonard Cohen.
The tension in the conceptual poles between weakness and strength is in found in more than one place in scripture.
“God’s weakness is greater than man’s strength.”
Most every believer is familiar with the following scriptural injunction:
“Even if I should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking the truth. But I refrain, so no one will think more of me than is warranted by what I do or say, or because of these surpassingly great revelations. Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
Most perfectionists believe that they are somehow stronger for being more “perfect.” Perhaps German philosopher Nietzsche contributed fundamentally to this kind of thinking with his concept of the ideal “übermensch” or Superman. This broad platform of belief is the very core of the matter. And yet, scripture presents a very different view of human weakness. Whether weakness is defined as some kind of impairment, financial straits, ruined relationships or loss, whether of someone dearly loved or something deeply valued, the fact remains that all of us deal with weakness in a multiplicity of ways.
Strength is a form of definition: a rock to stand upon, an abiding reference point, a foundation from which to overcome. There is nothing inherently wrong with this. But the question remains: what, and perhaps more appropriately, who is the source of our own strength?
But what if the ultimate place of victory resides not in our greatest accomplishments, but rather in our greatest ineptitude? What if our ragged attempts that will always fall short of the majesty we so long for points the way not to us, but to the One who made us, who delights to make us into what we could never be apart from His grace?
LORD, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us. ~Isaiah 26:12
How would we live, what would we do, and how would we think if we actually acted as if the strength we possess where nothing more than a gift we were given to steward?
There is such a difference between taking ownership of our gifts in order to steward them, and taking ownership of them as if we were the ones from whom they originated. As far as others are concerned, they are! But it would be misguided at best to act as if we were the ultimate source of our own capabilities. That of course isn’t to say we have no responsibility in developing what we’ve been given. Taking the initiative to bring things into being that would not otherwise be is key, but that is not the same thing as believing as if we were the true source of what we do. All of us have received a measure of glory. And that is the point: it has been given.
[It is no longer about sing-song wisdom. It is about trust.]
So what of weakness? If we are not the source of the giftings within, why does weakness bother us so much? Weakness is not what we want to tout. It is not something we wish to become—it is not something we aspire to. But perhaps a distinction must be made between brokenness and vulnerability; both are a form of weakness, but both certainly can point to God. We are but hollow forms in need of filling. We need the indwelling of the tranquility, the grace, and also the timing of a Being Who is beyond us, and beyond time. The Architect of all which is, of our lives and our fallen blueprints (not fallen due to His design, but due to a choice made by humankind years ago to step outside of the realm of divinity to that of limited humanity) stands by to scoop us up out of the ashes and show our lives for the beautiful creations He intended them to be. They are not meant to showcase shame, but to show off His power and majesty.
And how many forms the digressions can take. None however are more powerful than the Maker’s ability to cleanse, heal, purge away. We are allowed to lay down our debt, be it doubt, fear, or any burdening weight we were simply never meant to bear.
Our mortal accuser wants to bring us down and away from any awareness that actually brings liberation. Wants to diminish that which is sacred. Wants to shrink and not expand our realm of influence for good. Regardless of what the past has been, we need to release all the years of stored bitterness and long accounts with missing the best in our hearts and minds into His better keeping and worship the One who sets us free. Then, we can hope to see things change. This is change not on our terms, but on the terms of the One who made us. The good news is that God wants this positive change for us more than we even want it for ourselves.
The irony is that the attempt to be perfect is only achievable when we stop trying to attain it. Its very pursuit is driven by flesh, and what is of the flesh will always end in death: it cannot stay. What is driven by the spirit however not only brings life in the here and now, but plies on into eternity. The spirit is not concerned with being perfect: it is already whole. Once we learn to operate from its center instead of the flesh, a whole new world opens up. We are given the opportunity to have our eyes washed clean of the debilitating view that it is all up to us to accomplish anything of worth. This is the antithesis of the gospel, which maintains that we are helpless without God’s intervention. This is wrapped in the abiding reality that God does more than help us, He loves us even when we don’t receive His help. But the point is that we have a firm launch point in all of these struggles, and despite whatever has taken place, up until this precise moment, the next breath is an opportunity to walk away without needing to do another thing, into a beginning trajectory into freedom.
[Take the Rockport seat away for the time being. You are free to socialize as you see fit.] ?
[Carve out time to listen. To be a witness.]
The core issue with perfectionism is identity: we try to carve out our own dimensionality without first securing it to the divine blueprint we were created to showcase. By showcase I don’t necessarily mean any particular range of a public platform, but more basically, the pure essence that one was created to move within.
So what can we do to remain in a sense ‘uncultured’ and free from the trappings of success that would otherwise overwhelm us and subjugate our souls to miseries that are wrapped up in the pursuit of things which are less than what has been prepared for us in advance.
The challenge is: are we able to step away and just breathe into our work long enough to see something come to fruition? We try to outpace ourselves in the nonstop quest to answer the demands of maintaining our world as we believe it needs to be. How do we somehow manage to clear the slate and just let things fall where they may, in order that our inner workings, the truth of our creative lives, come to the fore? We are not so conditioned to allowing our artistic pursuits lead the way or come to the fore or rise to the surface: we have been made to believe that on some level artistic endeavors are frivolous and actually second to pursuits that have more measurable outcomes. How does one answer the call within that by its very nature is about invoking the ineffable, and pointing to the truth of the boundless within, the matters of the heart and spirit that simply cannot be quantified? It isn’t that the art is wrong or even disrespected: it is that so many do not honor their own private journeys, their path through their own hurts and joys and betrayals and highpoints?
To have a vision to produce something new, something we’ve never done before or that has not been done in the world is a rare task to perform. We feel it is so elusive and unattainable. But once we honor it above the life of the flesh, we find the time to do it. It does not roll on the tracks of the world.
It is interesting to note that Jesus’ power was limited or launched by the faith of those around him. We are no different: and if we don’t find proper outlets for our creativity, we are going to not flow in the manner we were intended to. But once we find that place where we are actually received, there is a welcoming presence that makes things not only work, but flourish.