Not Strength but Tenderness

"Spiritual and moral tenderness, an awareness of our own frailty, is what allows us to survive in these ambiguous places."

I idolize strength. I think, "this person or that person is not strong enough to be able to handle these rough environments." It is not our strength that allows us to survive. We will crumble when it is our strength. Knowledge of our own frailty allows us to depend on God. Spiritual and moral tenderness will allow us to live with those who suffer despite not having an answer to give them. Grace, not strength, makes life on the desperate margins possible.

(taken from a distant blog)

These words hit the spot tonight as I returned home from a few hours in a hospital room.  I joined a friend visiting her mom, who is recovering poorly from extensive abdominal surgery.  The mom seems to have some serious cognitive setbacks as well as physical ones, and they're not sure why she rants and yells and calls for faraway people, even now that she's off the hard-core painkillers.  She asked the same questions, she begged to go home, she threatened to smack us, and she writhed in pain.

We did pray for her.  And I continually prayed for my friend in the room.  All the while, I was aware of the rigid strength it must take for my friend not to cry.  I was on the verge of tears as her mother railed against her and clawed at her clothing.  As we got into the car afterward, my friend and I talked about strength.  We talked about depending on Jesus.  But after reading this, I realized that what we offered in that room for a couple of hours wasn't any kind of superhuman or even divine strength.  What we relied upon was tender love.  What kept us upright was tender mercy for a woman in pain and confusion.

Strength can become a burden and obligation-- it means you're the one to do the heavy lifting, right?!  Tenderness, however, is altogether different.  I can't be resentfully or reluctantly tender.  I can only offer simple tasks to the best of my ability.  It was mercy, not muscle, that laid damp cloths on a writhing woman's slack skin.  Strength makes good superheroes, but tenderness is the stuff of shepherds and servants.