A power made perfect in weakness that is only learned in loss

I can’t claim this for my own, but I’m very happy to pass it on. Those good guys at AA showed me this most audacious of powers that is most accessible when it’s most needed; a power that can only be accessed when our backs are against the wall.

The astonishing thing is this knowledge should be more commonly known. But it isn’t because if flies in the face of human logic. It absolutely confounds our rationale.

Take heart in your loss. Your greatest pain takes you to the cusp of your purpose. Just don’t expect the journey to be comfortable. 

Here is how it works.

First, we must acknowledge the sheer unpredictability of grief. It’s a thief springing one surprise of loss after another; one is shaped like disappointment, another like betrayal, and another is like inner destruction. Those thieves are like ninjas. They come dressed alike, but they always appear unique.

There are days in grief that are frankly normal—we suffer no ill effects other than not being able to escape the resonating echo of the same drone of sorrow that we cannot flee from. Notwithstanding such sadness for the baseline facts of the loss that ripped its way through our life, we have capacity and function, and we’re grateful. But the following day is anything like that. Times where getting out of bed is a major accomplishment (or just an impossibility), and when mid-morning we might be fine, but by lunchtime we’ve been ravaged by a panic attack that came from nowhere that left us catatonic.

How it works is it’s only possible on days and at times when we have capacity and function.

When we have capacity and function,
when we’re out in our world,
the smaller we make ourselves,
the smaller we make our problems.

Let me explain that. Only when we have capacity and function does this work. Don’t expect to be able to do this when you’re floored by the trigger; when depression grips the mind, body and soul in a cacophony of tyranny.

When we have capacity and function, we have the opportunity to make our problems smaller by making ourselves small. We do that by making others bigger. By making their problems bigger. Not that our problems are small—especially in loss—but we do make our problems smaller, even if temporarily, when we make others’ problems bigger by serving them, by putting the focus temporarily on them. 

This is a beautiful functional denial. By that I mean, we have taken the opportunity, even for a few moments, to take the focus off our sorrow so we can put our focus on the joy of doing something for someone else.

This is really the reason why people who are grieving should not be discouraged in their serving. Truly this is not only a great time to serve, but the purpose of serving is truly also learned in such a season. When we most need to be served, we learn the value of serving as we serve others. Sure, we still need to be served. And it takes humility to accept others’ help.

A deep thing is learned in serving others when in all reality we are the ones who need to be served.

Indeed, as we serve in a season when we would dearly appreciate others serving us, we get the sweet reprieve to experience the sheer delight of being that vessel of God’s power as he blesses another person through us. I say sweet reprieve because we frankly get sick of it being all about us.

We want to become smaller, not only because it reduces our pain, but also because we get to be who God wants us to be.

And THIS is the power made perfect
in weakness that can only be learned in loss.

It’s so astoundingly simple. Live the reality of the moment of becoming small by making someone else bigger, by making our problems smaller, by giving prominence to others’ problems, and something of God’s Kingdom comes to live forevermore in our heart.

Suddenly in becoming small, God makes us big—big in the right way. The smaller we try to be, the bigger God makes the power of God in us. It cannot be explained better than that—well, at least I’m incapable of putting it more succinctly.

The more we practice humility, the less pride we suffer.

Who would have thought that the key to receiving God’s power in our weakness was centrally about looking away from ourselves? That’s how it is.

Much of loss is not being able to get apart from ourselves and depths of our pain. The more we thrust ourselves into the world of others’ pain, the more God uses us to bless others, the more relief and meaning we feel, and the more power from God we experience.