I used to ...

             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. (II Corinthians 12:9)

 

The past couple of days have been tough. One of the toughest parts about it is that (at least in my memory of it) I used to be able to do this stuff. I used to have an income that, while not enough, was much better than I have now. I used to put on winter weather gear and take a 3 mile walk in the snow. I used to spend from 8 to 11 every night working on my story. I used to…used to…used to. And then life got in the way, I got older, and I let myself get out of shape. The fact that the snow storm involved crippled the whole area doesn’t matter to the part of me that says, “But you used to…” or to my knee, my lower back, or my shoulders. Reason need not apply. And forget about “Do what you can, with what you have where you are, now.” I used to… I should be able to…We’ve all been there.

Don’t worry. I’m not at a point where such thoughts are allowed to roam free for long, especially now that I have good music on. But thoughts like those brought today’s verse to mind. Paul “used to” live without his thorn in the flesh. I don’t know what his issue was, but he had one. And when he went to God about it, God apparently did nothing. He repeated his petition, twice, before God answered. And after Jesus had healed and freed so many, God told Paul, “No.” If Paul had been strong and capable, people would have started to put him on a pedestal. In fact, they did.  Sometimes, they still do.

This is one of the things that may cause our frustration when we used to do things and can’t any more. We want to be admired. We want to matter. People who can’t do what they used to get forgotten. They get put out to pasture or tucked away in some cubbyhole that someone calls an apartment. But there’s another issue that causes frustration. We want to do good. We feel like failures, or failures waiting to happen.

I think Paul understood the latter frustration. John Milton did, too. He wrote about his blindness in this regard:

When I consider how my light is spent,

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide,

“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need

Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state

Is Kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o’er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.”

                                                                          (Milton, John, When I Consider How My Light Is Spent)

          More importantly, God understands this. When He answered Paul, it wasn’t with anger and reproof. It was with reassurance. And this is what we need to remember when we can’t do what we used to. God’s grace is sufficient. His power is made perfect (useful) in our weakness. We may not understand how, but He is good. He loves us. He knows our frailties.