It is extremely difficult for me to say these words.
I’m used to doing things on my own. I have been purposefully single for 7 years; I lifted my grocery bags up 2 flights of stairs every week, did all of my own home repairs, plumbing, and carpentry, and successfully defended myself against perverts and creeps, all without assistance.
I remember a few years ago when I was having trouble with a weight machine at the gym and some muscled dude swooped in right away to save the day – unasked – and I rudely swatted his hand away. “The nerve!” I thought, “He probably thinks I’m some damsel in distress who can’t figure anything out for herself.”
I refused offers from men to carry my things, open doors or pull out chairs for me.
I hated to be told that I wasn’t capable of doing something, anything, for myself. It was all a matter of pride.
And that, I know, was my weakness.
A long time ago – though it doesn’t seem that long ago, really – I was hurt badly by people I really cared about, trusted, and relied on. And I guess that set a precedent for how I felt about trust itself.
I just simply stopped having faith in people. I felt that everyone I cared about would eventually hurt me, so I trusted no one but myself.
This worked fine, until those times when I realized I just COULDN’T do everything on my own. I remember how frustrating it was for me when I tried pulling heavy furniture from the shelves of IKEA on my own. And when I tried to carry my new washing machine up two flights of stairs. And when I tried to get the back zipper on a tight dress unstuck as I grunted and strained to get it off for about an hour. These may sound like funny anecdotes, but I swear I wanted to burst into tears about halfway through the zipper fiasco.
And yet, my pride refused to let me tell someone: “Please help me.”
A few months ago, God used someone to show me just how much I had been hurting myself by being too afraid to risk having someone else hurt me. This person reached out when they saw I needed help, even though I refused it at first.
I was just going to give up rather than accept an outstretched hand. But in that moment, God revealed His touch in the hand of a virtual stranger. I was hesitant, but I found that if I wanted help I’d have to reach out to take it. So I did.
In that moment God opened my eyes and I was set free. Free from believing that I had to bear everything alone; free from thinking that everyone who said they would lift me up would only let me down; free from feeling that admitting I needed other people made me weak and helpless. All I had to do was take someone’s hand, give up control, and allow myself to be lifted up.
People are fond of saying “God helps those who helps themselves”, and some people actually think that that appears in the Bible.
But Proverbs 28:26 says, “He who trusts in himself is a fool”, James 4:10 says, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up”, and in Matthew 11:28-30 Jesus says, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
God is not only saying that admitting you need help is okay…it is essential!
God places people around us. No, this doesn’t mean they will never hurt us or let us down (in the same way that we let our loved ones down too, once in a while), but being vulnerable enough to admit we need them is so much more liberating than the shackles of so-called “independence”.
Independence didn’t make me stronger. It was a lie I told myself for so many years until I literally broke down from pretending and forcing myself for far too long.
Dependence on God made me stronger. Dependence on other people made me stronger.
The only things I had to give up were control…and pride.
