I don't like to ask for help. There, I said it. It's an admission of weakness that makes me seem, well, weak. I'm the Mighty Mouse of moms. Here I come to save the day! You need help. I've got you covered. No, really, I've got this. I don't need help. Nope. I'm going to work harder, longer, and more efficiently. Really, I've got this.
So, this may come as a complete shock to those who know me best, but I have a difficult time saying no. Don't roll your eyes. You do it, too. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure eye rolling is the first sign of conviction from the Holy Spirit. The next one is clearly denial, so don't go there. Perhaps this scenario seems familiar. You're in the middle of planning lessons while making dinner when the phone rings. Because you, like me, believe somehow the caller will see you're ignoring the call and take offense to your refusal to answer, you dig through your purse frantically searching for your phone, which is set on the "bark" ring tone thanks to children with a sense of humor and snatch it from the depths of the unknown just in time. Your husband hears this one-sided part of the conversation. "Saturday? Sure, I've got time to teach an extra class. Cookies? Homemade? Sure. Host a dinner afterwards? Of course, I'll just run the vacuum." In the meantime, both of your children can't live without immediate attention. Apparently, the blue crayon is AWOL and you're the only one who can find it. You hang up the phone, checking three times to make sure the call has ended, so the caller doesn't hear you and/or your husband and/or your children scream. You smile sheepishly, shrug your shoulders, and sigh, "I'll manage. It's no big deal," pull the burned rolls from the oven, disable the fire alarm, then go to your room and cry.
Not that I speak from experience, but the next thing you know you're driving down the highway suddenly bawling, turning up Adventures In Odyssey, so your children don't notice, drop them off at your husband's office, late, so you can make a doctor's appointment, late. Two hours later, you're covered in a thin papery-gown, freezing and sobbing, while the nurse pats your back and your doctor writes a prescription for anti-depressants. I've heard rumors of breakdowns like this happening, just saying....
And, here's the funny part, I....I mean, you, aren't fooling anyone. I have a friend who can take one look at me and sense immediately that I've over scheduled myself into a frenzy, however well-meaning my intentions. It seems my wild-eyed pacing, extreme frustration, and strange mumbling are dead giveaways that I clearly need a hand yet refuse to ask for one. I come by it honestly. I grew up in a family of self-sufficient do-it-yourselfers. I remember my mom pulling a week of all-nighters sewing burgundy taffeta, so my sister and I would have new dresses for a pageant. My sisters selflessly volunteer their time despite having a laundry list of demands at home. Like the mighty Titanic, we think we're unsinkable until we hit an iceberg and discover it's a little late.
We're not alone. I witness daily mom after mom buying into the lie that we can have it all that if we work harder or longer; we can single-handedly conquer whatever the day may throw at us. We believe the enemy when he whispers into our ear that our inability to accomplish every task on our to-do list is a sign of our incompetence and weakness. We refuse to admit that we're weak, frail, and human; that we're not supermom. Our inability to say no is the mask we wear to hide our weaknesses. We lose sight of grace and continue working our fingers to the bone for a salvation that can't be accomplished by works.
Recently, God opened my eyes anew to Paul's own breakdown moment. While he may not be supermom, he is the Mighty Mouse of Jesus followers. I realize most of us aren't sitting imprisoned for sharing our faith in Christ, but life can be tough, and in our vain human pride, we often make it even harder. Paul didn't hide behind his difficulty. "We do not want you to be uninformed brothers and sisters about the troubles we experienced...we were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves, but on God, who raises the dead...on Him we have set our hope that He will continue to deliver us, as you help by your prayers." 2 Cor 1: 8-11. Again, while none of us are necessarily facing death, we face our own trials, and what struck me about Paul's response is that he didn't pretend everything was okay. He's saying, straight up, we were scared for our lives.
Paul, super-apostle, man who'd encountered the risen Christ on the road to Damascus was stressed. He admitted it and pleaded for prayer. He reached out to his brothers and sisters in Christ, many facing the same thing he was, and asked for help through prayer. How many of us are in this mommying, serving, following Christ thing together? Why are we so stoic? Why are we pretending to be strong? Is it an attempt to prove we're better than everyone else? Girls, what do we gain by attempting to do it all and have it all? Why do we beat each other up, look down our nose at each other's choices and sit on a lonely throne of self-righteousness? Is a failure to admit weakness strength? No. Paul tells us so a little later in Corinthians. Are we denying each other an opportunity to minster and to pray and to share in each other's hardships? Isn't this one of our callings as sisters in Christ? Have I broken a record for most questions in one paragraph? We are called to support and love each other and by soldiering on in solitude, slowly crumbling under the pressures of life, building flimsy walls that block out the world from knowing how exhausted and overwhelmed we truly are, we deny each other our calling.
Paul also realized that God had allowed this to happen to increase his dependence on Jesus. He, later in the same book expresses a similar theme: 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 weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor 12:9-10. Come again? Did you hear that? He delighted in his weakness. In his weakness lay his strength. Not only do we deny our friends and family the opportunity to fulfill their callings in Christ, we deny God an opportunity to reveal His strength and power in our situation. He invites us to weakness. How much freedom is in that sentence? He invites you, welcomes you to be weak, encourages you to admit your weakness. For it is only, hear me, friends, it is only at our weakest that we can become our strongest. It's when you lay it all at the feet of Jesus and say, "I can't do this" that you experience true strength, healing, and freedom. I know. I heard you say, "But not me; you don't understand my life." Sister, that is a lack of faith. God is inviting us to trust Him with our weaknesses. The God of the universe is whispering in your other ear, "No, I've got this. I know you're weak, but I am strong." Let's rejoice in our weakness.
