It is my weakness that defines me, not my strength. I have spent a lot of my time here on earth believing the hype: that if I just will do the right things, then I will “feel right.” But the cold, hard truth hits me every morning – that I will always struggle and be a lovely little mess. Paul called it his “thorn.” He had a struggle that would not go away, even though he pleaded for it to go and he was ready for it to go.

It seems apparent from this perspective that I am to revel in the fact that I am weak. That means I should celebrate the fact that I am really messed up, and I will always be. Whenever I start to think that maybe I can pull myself together and get my life on track and start “feeling right,” I am just kidding myself. I will always be weak and wanting. And weirdly, that is when I am strong.