I’ve never considered myself weak. Not that I thought I was some kind of super strong, amazing saint. For most of my life, if I set my mind to do or not do something, I could muster enough willpower to follow through on my decision. Whether it was related to health, spiritual matters, or other areas, if I felt convicted to get healthier, make better choices, or operate in wisdom, I could follow through. I had the motivation to try to be the best version of myself. This is not to say I didn’t have any hang-ups or struggles with sin, just that in general, I was able to change or work to change my life. Or so I thought. Until recently, when a darkness and a period of emptiness threatened to consume me.

I started a Celebrate Recovery step study. Why? Because for the first time in my life, I no longer wanted to do what was right. My tendencies were leaning toward selfish, sinful behaviors, and I didn’t know why. I knew I should be content with the life God had given me. I should be satisfied and feel like it was enough. But in all honesty, I wanted to walk away from being a mother, from being a dedicated and contributing member of the Body of Christ, from everything I had ever known. To the depths of my soul, I felt so very empty. Despite all the love from my Savior, my friends and family, and the great affection my children had towards me, nothing was satisfying that part of me that wanted, and I had no clue why or how to remedy the situation.

I had spent my whole life making the right choices and wondered in frustration where it had landed me. I was stuck in single parenthood, in constant work and struggle. Home only represented work and unrest for me, not peace or safety. I wasn’t exactly bitter, although I may have been a little bitter, but I was certainly tired of it all. I wanted out but could not leave because too many people needed me. Mostly, my four kids, and I couldn’t hurt them. Not to mention the horrible witness it would be if I chose not to show God’s light. Maybe I didn’t think my scope of influence was very large, but others would be affected if I walked away, and it would reflect poorly on God. I would be just another fallen saint. How could I do that after all that God had done for me? He had done so much for me, even if I was numb to it.

So instead, my destructiveness turned inward and private, and I could not really share all the struggles. I often chose things that were not the best ways, healthiest outlets, or godly ways to cope with these feelings of inadequacy, self-hatred, and loneliness. I knew that I would have to deal with my damage because holding it in was becoming impossible. People always see the cracks, even when you desperately try to hide them.

The truth was, I really didn’t want to hide them anymore. I was reaching the point of being brutally honest about my situation, but not in a good way. I just couldn’t make myself care anymore. A friend told me, you can only hold the beach ball underwater so long before people realize you are trying to hide something. Yep, that was me, trying to hide things from others and myself and wearing myself out in the process. It was time to let go of the beach balls in my life that I was trying to conceal, to stop denying, and let them come to the surface and just deal with the real issues. Not something I had ever done, as I had learned to deny and hide all my life since childhood. Honestly, I was terrified. Yet, I couldn’t maintain my godly, perfect veneer any longer and knew it was time. So I became real with myself and decided I needed to deal with my damage before I did something stupid I could not recover from, that would not only hurt me but those I loved and was working to protect.

Here’s the thing, this damage was only a small part of my story. The larger part of me was a responsible person, living what most consider to be a very Christian life, yet there was a darker part of me, and it seemed like it was growing and overtaking the other part. So I went to Celebrate Recovery because I knew things were not going well. I was silently screaming desperate for assistance and rescue, begging God to help me get out. I needed rescue. From what I wasn’t 100% sure of, but whatever it was, it was slowly killing me.

What I thought was, at CR, I would get lessons on overcoming through pure willpower, like I had overcome before in life. That’s got to be the solution, right? After all the way to fix it was to just move forward and determine that you can do this, and then it happens. However, that is not what I found. Instead, I found lessons on how I have to admit my situation as it really is and not live in denial. That I was powerless to change, at least on my own. Really, God, powerless? Yes! There was more though, I had to admit that what I had thought my entire life was wrong. I can’t save myself through determination or willpower; I won’t choose what’s right because I am unable to do the right thing in my own strength. I only wanted to please and appease myself, my flesh. I was willing powerless sinner.

I remember recognizing that I was a sinner who needed God as a child, but I don’t ever remember acknowledging that I was powerless to effect change or bring true transformation in my life. Outside of God, I am nothing; I have nothing. It’s not a simple, “ok God, I’m a sinner.” It’s realizing that I would wallow in it and enjoy it and continue to do it. It’s recognizing that I was truly wicked, unwilling and unable to do what is right. That even the “good” I did was done with wrong motives all to ofter. My friends, without God you are utterly and completely ruined, truly lost, and absolutely unable to do anything that saves yourself in your own power. I don’t think I had ever acknowledged that, but it was time I did.

You see, I always thought I was a little good because I chose right most of the time. Yet, during that dark time in my life that led me to CR, any assumption of goodness or worthiness on my part based on my merit proved to be a lie. The reality was I could not save myself. Powerless is what I was. I could deny the truth no longer. It made me angry at everything—at myself for being so weak, at God for making me this way and not naturally instilling all goodness and discipline in me, and at others for disappointing and hurting me in ways that drove me to seek solace in any way possible due to pain and desperation. I didn’t want to have to surrender, to know that I couldn’t make this better no matter how hard I tried.

What’s more, how could anyone love such a weak and powerless individual? I certainly could not. Yet the person Christ died for, she was that weak, useless person. The person I was disgusted with, who I hid for fear that others would see her for who she really was (the person who I truly was and did not want to admit to myself), she was the one He was wooing. Wow, He was calling to me in my wretched state, “Come to me just as you are, I love you.”

So here I sit, realizing that yes, I am truly powerless, but I have hope. The truth is, knowing I’m powerless to change myself does not make me weak. It’s the beginning of strength. Powerlessness and weakness are not the same. Although I am powerless and a sinner but I am not weak when I surrender to God’s will and respond to his call. Weakness only remains if I don’t admit my need and seek God’s help or if I keep trying to save myself, which I can never do. Perhaps I am helpless to save myself from my hurts, habits, and hang-ups, but God is not!

Strength comes when admitting the truth, and that is the starting place for true freedom and life changing transformation. When I surrender to the Lord, He can begin his work in me to create in me a new heart. When we recognize that we need the great physician to open up our hearts and work on us, that’s the start in the right direction. It will be in His way, in His time, and with His strength. So much strength and power comes from surrender, submission, and absolute trust in our Savior. Wow, the light of truth shone brightly that day in my heart, and I pray you see the truth clearly also.

It’s ironic that God has brought me to that moment when he did. It was no long after I attended the Walk to Emmaus. During dying moments, I asked God what to lay down this time. He spoke to my heart, “My child, you always bring me your problems and your stuff. I just want you!” Fully surrendered, recognizing my own powerlessness and His powerfulness, my weaknesses that are strengths in His hands, and my trust in the process that He is walking me through is what God required that day.

What now? My life isn’t going to change, at least not right away; it will be challenging. I will continue to be the mother of four children with all the same struggles and responsibilities. However, my focus and the attitude of my heart will change. I choose to change it. I will face one day at a time. I will recognize my source and stop trying to be what I was never meant to be. He is the Savior, provider, and chain breaker. That is His work to do.

I pray you will resolve to do what I am doing now, no matter how painful or how long it takes. He can work in you what He thinks is good, right, and acceptable.

I will not get up from the altar that I laid prostrate before the Lord on during dying moments when I surrendered (well, I will have to get up physically, but my heart and my soul will remain in His hand alone). You also can learn how to live surrendered and recognizing the truth of your powerlessness, and his powerful work and transformation he wants to bring about in you. This is the starting place from where you can finally walk into full peace, healing, and freedom. A place of full surrender and total reliance on Christ. Weak in the world’s eyes, but strong and powerful in Jesus.

Scripture: 2 Cor. 12:9