There are times when I feel utterly dominated by a spirit of oppression, when there is no life in me, no energy, and every bit of strength in me is sapped.
Times like these I know I have strength in me, I just cannot tap into it. I feel paralysed beyond its access, as if shut-in entirely, silent even though I’m screaming.
No matter what I do or try I cannot seem to shake it, and I have resolved that such a spirit is not so much to be shaken as to be left as it is. Accepted. Welcomed. Embraced.
… then abandoned.
Rather than get upset at this state of debilitation I have learned to let it be — to cease judging it. It will harm me if I get anxious over something that confuses me.
The truth is many of us are dogged by this kind of spiritual pallor, and it usually comes without warning.
As I find in myself the inability to escape what will drag me further down into the mire, I have learned to long for what I don’t have; God’s strength that is infinite and everlasting; a strength I can rest in; a strength that never judges me, but helps me divert from the bondage of a dead spirit.
We speak in terms so often in this faith life of having God’s strength, but we never do have it, only the foretaste or a promise. Yet that’s enough for us, because we know that God is good, and we know that resting in His strength is not about feeling His strength so much as it’s about feeling at peace in our weakness.