My Name Is Cheryl...And I Am A Weakling

My name is Cheryl.

And I am a weakling.

That’s the kind of group I want to be in: the kind of group where we each take the stand and own up to who we are—who we really are. Not the avatars we put out in the world through our blogs and our tweets; but who we are at the core.

After all, that’s where we will all ultimately connect, where we will all see one another as Christ sees us: as humanity steeped in the dignity of our creation but as a weak humanity in need of strength found in him who has offered us salvation.

I love being weak.

It means I’m “needy” which seems, to many people I am sure, to be an unpleasant state of being. And I’ve been trampled on more than a few times in my weakened state. I don’t always fight back when society would say that I should. I’ve been hurt and I’ve been wounded.

For years I tried to fight being weak. A bit ironic, right?

I wanted to be able to pick myself up by my bootstraps. I wanted to be able to say with confidence and pride that I was able to overcome life’s obstacles. However, at 54 years old, it occurs to me that being weak can be worn as a badge of honor (humbly, of course). In my weakness I have put aside my agenda and my goals—not in a defeated way but in the understanding that they can easily overcome me, they can quickly replace discernment of spirit, they can negate my need to find strength through Christ.

In admitting my weakness, I have become strong.

God has given me incredible strength through women who have become friends in the deepest sense of the word. They have surrounded me with love and have moved me forward, past pain and into God’s arms and his grace.

They’ve lowered me, in my weakened state, on the mat through the roof to Christ; and to them I owe everything. They have given me life and hope. Christ did not abandon me in my weakness but strengthened me through these women, these friends.

My name is Cheryl.

And I am a weakling.