Holy Helplessness

I’ve never felt as helpless as I do right now. This morning I was praying through Psalm 141, and I clung to verse 8: “But my eyes are toward you, O God, my Lord; in you I seek refuge; leave me not defenseless!” Persons with a simplistic view of faith cannot account for David’s paradoxical words. On the one hand, David proclaims a confident faith in God. He looks toward God because only God can deliver him from his troubles. He proclaims that God is his refuge, but then in the next breath he cries out to God in desperation, “Leave me not defenseless!”

Why does he beg God not to leave him? Does he not believe the words he had just sang? Is he double-minded—trusting and not trusting, believing and doubting—having some sort of split personality? No. I think that David’s faith in God’s protection is real and genuine, and I also believe that David’s cries of desperation are heartfelt. David teaches us—and he is not alone in teaching us this—that a confident faith most often manifests itself in deep desperation. This meeting of faith and desperation creates a holy helplessness that causes us to forsake all other objects of trust and rely on God alone.

I’ve known good people who have been swept up into certain circles of the Charismatic and prosperity gospel movements that act as if true faith operates as perpetual optimism. They view any intrusion of sorrow and discontent into their lives as repudiation of their faith that needs to be overcome by the power of positive thinking. They, therefore, don’t have the freedom to cry out with David, “Leave me not defenseless.” Of course, they are not alone in this simplicity. Many other Christians act this way even without the influence of popular television preachers.

Like I said, I’ve never felt as helpless as I do right now. Every item of daily prayer that I have is absolutely beyond my ability to affect an answer; and these items are no small things. My mind rushes to them day and night, and I am almost constantly thinking of some way—any way—that I can get the answer. Yet, doors have closed repeatedly to the point that I feel like I am in a place with no escape. Here in this place, I finally understand what David means. I am defenseless from the tribulations in my life. I am helpless. That is who I am.

Only the presence of God in my life alters my intrinsic inability. I am helpless, but with him I am not. I am defenseless, but with him I am not. My faith is confident even while my desperation is deep, and it is only faith in God that can give meaning to times of severe sorrow. While I cannot understand fully the reasons why I am shut into these helpless situations, I at least know that becoming more acquainted with my helplessness strengthens my faith in God alone. Strong confidence in God and a realistic assessment of our helplessness motivates the child of God to cry out to God with the desperation of one who genuinely believes that only God can affect the needed change to persevere through and, if he wills, overcome the mounting sorrows of life. As David, we must cry out in holy helplessness, “You are my help. Do not leave me helpless!”