I awaken to find you there again, ready to greet me Lord. You know all about me, every part of me. You are not interested in my talents or my strengths. You are not looking where I have it all figured out.
No, that’s just not it. That’s just where I don’t get it.
It’s that scary place. When the lightning and the thunder roared so loud and the house shook as if it might fall to the ground. When I was a child that place made me tremble like a skinny leaf. That’s when I looked for you. When I cried out to you.
Now I’m old and the thunder doesn’t scare me so much. Now I’m hardened with thick scars. Am I not strong? Just look at me and see how strong I am.
Yet in the stillness before the dawn you offer me what I can not give myself. You offer to heal and restore me in places I can not. The places where I am weak and still tremble at the storm.
Take this little boy’s hand. Heal this little boy’s heart. I cry out to you again.
For when I am weak, then I am strong.
. . .
2 Cor 12:10