When our Weakness Reveals His Strength

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I’m over at Proverbs 31 today talking about those times when God asks us to serve out of our weakness rather than our strength. It’s a set up for discomfort and wonder all at once! And it’s the perfect way to discover just how strong our Heavenly Father is. If you haven’t had a chance to read it, you can find it here. But before you go, I’d love to tell you what I learned from a four-year-old in a pumpkin patch once upon a time on an October day…

It was sixteen years ago when his feet tromped through that muddy Nebraska farm field in search of the perfect pumpkin.  But I can picture him still, his chin jutted firm in four-year-old resolve, his slender frame was wrapped in a fuzzy yellow fleece and an ornery grin.

We’d fed the goats and swayed sky-high on the gunnysack swings. We’d cuddled the kittens and wandered through the corn maze.But in my preschooler’s mind, our prattling play was merely a prelude to his mission. The real reason for our visit was tucked somewhere in those brown rows of dirt on top of the hill  beyond the bright red barn.

“You may bring one pumpkin home,” I’d told this strong-willed son of mine on that blue-sky day as our mini van had bumped along the dusty road leading to the pumpkin farm. I was hoping to communicate clear expectations before we arrived, so I might avoid an all-too-familiar show-down when it was time to leave.

“Just one?” Lukas had asked as he wrinkled his nose in quiet protest.

“Yep,” I’d replied, sparing my young one the commentary on our tight budget.

He’d cocked his sun-bleached head of hair toward the window; then stared out the glass at the passing farmhouses and fields of corn.  “Can I have any pumpkin I want?” he’d asked, his voice just a wisp of a whisper.

“Your choice,” I’d repeated with a nod.

I’d flashed him a grin in the rear-view mirror. And he’d clapped his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

That anticipation turned to determination once my four-foot scout began plodding through the pumpkin patch. He wandered up and down the rows of tangled vines, bending low to inspect the orange Autumn fruit protruding from the twisted green.

He studied the shape, the texture, the contour of every pumpkin that caught his eye.

He squatted in the soft brown soil and inhaled deep the fragrance of earth and squash.

He spit in his dirty hands and polished those bumpy round bulges to see if they would shine.

He wiggled them and slapped them, sniffed them and studied them.

And, finally, he spied the pumpkin he wanted to call his own.

“Mom! Mom!” he hollered as he raced across the field and beckoned me to follow. “I want this one!”

He stood in front of a Goliath-sized gourd and gave it a gentle kick.

I watched my four-year-old try to wrap his arms around its bulging middle. “This one will look awesome when we carve it!”

He turned to me and exclaimed,  “Let’s put it on the front step so everyone can see it.”

“It looks like it could swallow anyone who comes to our door,” I teased with a leery raise of my eyebrows.

Our banter was soon interrupted by a coverall-clad farmer. A kind smile decorated his lips, and a bright orange bandana adorned his neck.

He squatted down beside my son, gave him a conspiratorial wink, and bargained, “I’ll give you that pumpkin for free if you can carry it.”

Lukas bent down and tried to lift the pumpkin out of the dirt. He grunted and heaved. Heaved and grunted. But that perfect pumpkin wouldn’t budge.

My little boy’s face flushed red and his brows furrowed. He glanced at the pumpkin; then looked long at his own scrawny arms. He flexed for good measure, but finally turned with sagging shoulders to the waiting farmer.

His bottom lip trembled, and I held my breath. I waited for a drizzle of frustration to start seeping sad from those big blue eyes, and braced myself for the moment when my discouraged preschooler would snap and fill that pumpkin patch with angry wails.

Instead, much to my surprise, my son peered up at the farmer and admitted. “I’m not big enough to carry this…”

The old man rubbed his silver beard and exhaled a disappointed sigh.”Hmm…” he murmured aloud, “I’m sorry about that, young man…”

Lukas straightened his shoulders and cast the farmer a confident smile. “It’s okay,” he said as he patted the giant pumpkin  “My Daddy’s really, really strong.”

The farmer’s eyes twinkled and a sing-song chuckle spilled from his throat.

I joined in the chorus of laughter as I realized that my son hadn’t stayed stuck on what he couldn’t do. He’d allowed his weakness to remind him of what his Daddy could do. My four-year-old didn’t need to apologize for his weakness. He simply needed to enlist his father’s strength.

And there on that pumpkin-dotted hilltop, it struck me: that’s all God asks of His children, too–

To seek His with-ness in our weakness. To enlist His sufficiency in our lack.

I thought about the verse I’d read early in the morning while my pumpkin hunter was still asleep:

Finally, brothers and sisters, draw your strength and might from God. (Ephesians 6:10, The Voice)

And I marveled once again at the upside-down ways of God.

God’s word doesn’t tell us to stir up our own strength or multiply our own might. It doesn’t advise us to conquer our challenges alone or give up when we fall short.

The Bible reminds us that our strength is found in Christ (Philippians 4:13).

Our might comes from our Maker (Psalm 24:8).

Maybe that’s why King David could sing when it seemed he’d soon be sunk…

The Eternal is the source of my strength and the shield that guards me. When I learn to rest and truly trust Him, He sends His help. This is why my heart is singing! I open my mouth to praise Him, and thankfulness rises as song. (Psalm 28:7)

And perhaps that’s why, centuries later, the Apostle Paul echoed the very same sentiments from a stinky prison cell:

I am at peace and even take pleasure in any weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and afflictions for the sake of the Anointed because when I am at my weakest, He makes me strong.(2 Corinthians 12:10)

King David knew it and so did the Apostle Paul. And we’d be wise to understand it, too:

Our weakness sets the stage for God’s strength.

As God’s children, we’re not limited by our lack. We’re not shunned for our shortcomings.

On the contrary, our frailties can showcase His extravagance.

Our deficits can display His grandeur.

Because when it’s all said and done, our weaknesses aren’t meant to knock us down.

They’re intended to lift us up… right into the arms of our Father.

And just between me and you and a preschooler I once knew, that’s a fabulous place to be.

Because our Daddy is really, really strong!

Thanks for lingering here with us today, friends. If you’d like a printable prayer to remind you of God’s strength in your weakness, you can grab a copy here: Prayer Printable

And if you have a moment before you go, we’d love to hear how God has shown His strength in your weakness lately. Or let us know how we can pray for you as we head into the weekend.