Weak made strong

I lift weights once a week.

I'm obviously one giant walking muscle.

But, believe it or not, there are certain times where I'm not necessarily as strong as I would like to be. I've become pretty talented at carrying more groceries than I should at once, and I've mastered my handstand pushups, but I still sometimes struggle when trying to move heavy objects. As stubborn as I am at times when it comes to asking others for help, there are definitely things I cannot do on my own.

But that doesn't mean I won't try.

I remember a few years ago when I was moving and loading items from my storage unit onto my moving truck, and I realized it was rather foolish to attempt all on my own. But, for some reason or another, my parents weren't available to help, and I didn't want to bother anyone else. There was a particular love seat I owned that was insanely heavy—I mean insanely heavy. The last time I had moved, my dad and brother had struggled a bit trying to carry it together.

And I thought I would be able to load it into a truck with no problem.

Beast mode

Surprisingly, I got it to the truck—scraping and scooting it on the concrete and probably tearing up the bottom of it completely—but then I had to get it up the ramp. (I'm sure it was a humorous sight to see a petite person trying to push this massive love seat up an incline, but thankfully I have no visual evidence of this adventure.) The bigger problem came when I got it to the top of the ramp, where there was a protrusion of some sort between the ramp and the open space in the back of the truck. The only way for the furniture to get into that truck was for it to be lifted over that obstacle.

This is where I found myself in quite the predicament.

How the heck was I going to lift this thing—especially when it was on an incline, and my body pushing against it with all of the might I had was the only thing preventing it from sliding back down to the ground?!

I don't remember how long it took me, and I will never be able to explain exactly how I got that couch in that truck. All I remember is that I tried so many different things, sweated more than normal, didn't think the happiest of thoughts in such frustration, and yelled really not nice things at an inanimate object. I also remember praying. A lot. I needed strength I didn't have in that moment, and somehow I got it.

When I was at the gym last week, there was a bar with two 45-pound weights on each side blocking what I needed. That's 225 pounds that I didn't want to have to handle. So, this time, rather than risking a hernia, I let a buffer-looking male move it for me when he saw me staring at it and contemplating what my plan of action would be.

There are moments when you simply have to acknowledge your weakness.

We talked a bit about this in church yesterday. Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians reminding them that Christ's power is made perfect in weakness, and he said, "For when I am weak, then I am strong" (see 2 Corinthians 12:9-10). I don't really remind myself of this often enough, because, quite honestly, I don't like to think of myself as weak. But it's in those moments when we are at our weakest that Christ's strength can be seen so much, because He can use even the most vulnerable people to do some of the mightiest things. Whether you feel weak physically, emotionally, or spiritually, He can still use you and make His strength known.

I may not be able to do power cleans at the gym, and moving furniture is not my forte, but I know that when my heart is feeling at its lowest I have a Father who will sweep me up and give me strength that I never even knew I had. It's like in Dr. Suess' How the Grinch Stole Christmas when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes, and he's able to lift the sleigh full of toys and return them to the precious people of Whoville.

So don't be afraid when you feel like you're weak—for when you are weak, then you are strong.