I got back late Monday night from a weekend trip to Calgary. I spent more time on the greyhound than I did visiting friends, but it was worth it for the gross amount of chocolate I consumed (it doesn’t count when you’re traveling), the friends I laughed with for probably 13 of the 15 hour bus ride, and the snow-capped mountains we woke up to midway through the Rockies.
This weekend marked the first snowfall of the year for Calgary. The freeways and ground turned white and clean. Something about snow just quietens me. It covers all the muddy bits of town and fills in all the gaps, blanketing everything in white.
About a week ago, I did something a little scary. Over dinner with a close friend of mine, I admitted something I didn’t want to admit: that I was jealous of my friend. I had been a jealous friend for quite some time. Jealous that I was less and she was more.
I could have not told her. I could have let the jealousy eat at me, could have continued to face resentment, and saved face.
I brought it to prayer and thought isn’t that enough? But the not telling ate at me still. So I told her.
We talk about so many beautiful things, that I was afraid to admit the ugly in me. I wanted to appear perfect still before her.
Admitting the ugly to my friend was a testament to this:
So I am happy when I have weaknesses, insults, hard times, sufferings, and all kinds of troubles. All these things are for Christ. And I am happy, because when I am weak, then I am truly strong.
[2 Corinthians 12:10]
Admitting our weakness is actually what makes us most beautiful. Think of a vase; the most fragile things are often the most beautiful. In admitting weakness, we declare that we NEED someone outside of ourselves. It’s terrifying maybe, but it’s also a reality of being Christian. Isn’t that what we’re saying each time we tell someone we are Christian or each time we walk out of confession? We’re essentially saying, “hey, I’m weak and I make mistakes and I need Him.”
A friend once told me, “Eunice, do you know why stained glass windows are beautiful? It’s because they’re made of shattered glass. SHATTERED glass.” Through the cracks and brokenness of ourselves, He can truly shine through.
I think back to the snow covering the ground. All the bits I’m not proud of? I’m going to wait for His snowfall to cover me.
To weakness that makes us beautiful,
“I am a sinner
If it’s not one thing it’s another
Caught up in words, tangled in lies
You are a Saviour and you take brokenness aside and make it beautiful
– All Sons & Daughters