If you were to do an internet search for quotations about disappointment, as I have done, you would find countless motivational proverbs attempting to paint it in a rosy light and deem it as a necessary factor in the search for success.
Conversely, author Thomas Hardy, ever the pessimist, tells us that “the sudden disappointment of a hope leaves a scar which the ultimate fulfillment of that hope never entirely removes.” While I have only read one of Hardy’s novels and found it so dismal and depressing that I could not bear to try another, he may just have this whole concept figured out.
When others disappoint us, they fail to meet our expectations; they let us down. And it hurts. And the more often or the greater extent to which someone disappoints us, the deeper it hurts us, and the longer that hurt lingers.
Perhaps the greatest let-down, however, comes when we disappoint ourselves. We create goals and expectations for ourselves, and we berate ourselves when we fail to meet these expectations, even if they were unattainable to begin with. We convince ourselves that our failure is a weakness.
Our own weaknesses seem to constantly confront us, and they appear in every aspect of our lives. To begin with, we can let ourselves down physically.
Last spring, the combination of exhaustion, 90-degree heat, lack of any food for the day, and seeing mass amounts of blood proved too much for my body to handle. After returning to consciousness, all I could think about was how I had failed my expectations for a trained rescuer and how weak I must appear. The following couple of days, I tried to prove to myself that I was too strong to let a concussion stop me from my duties of work, school, and junior high lock-in preparation. Yet, my expectations were opposed by physical limits, and instead of being strong and independent, I ended up unable to do much of anything and requiring the intervention of friends.
The summer found me as a youth care worker in a treatment home for adolescent girls with various emotional and behavioral problems, and it was here that I let myself down professionally and relationally. Some of my self-perceived strengths included success in my various job attempts as well as my ability to, on some level, connect with everyone with whom I got to know. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, there were girls with whom I could not relate, girls whose issues and past experiences I could not reach past. It broke my heart, and I felt like a failure in my job. Another let-down, another weakness.
Finally, and what stung the most, was a let-down in faith. This past semester, I befriended a young woman who had grown up in East Germany. One day, I started to tell her about what I had seen while leaving church, and before I could even get into the point of my story, she asked with shock "You go to church?....So you believe in God?" And thus started my theological conversation with 28 year-old who was raised in a Communist state and who today doesn't know anybody who goes to church.
It was very interesting to hear from someone with such a background, and I didn't even find myself offended when she stated, as politely as she could, that she has always viewed belief in God as a weakness. My sense of personal weakness didn’t come from hearing this but from the fact that, after having grown up in the church as well as scholastically analyzing various issues of theology, I couldn't provide good answers to any of her questions. I was disappointed in myself because I could not come up with rational explanations for the faith I have followed for twenty-one years. I knew there are reasons for what and why I believe, but I somehow could not identify and relate them to her. I've studied all sorts of ways to perceive God and still could not elaborate on what I believe God to be. I know I've discussed and examined the eternal "If there is a God, why do bad things happen?" question, but when she asked how God could allow 9-11, I couldn't give an answer. I have often shared my ideas of God and faith in settings like this, but when put on the spot by a curious atheist, I was stupefied. I had failed to meet my standards for what a strong Christian faith should be.
In conclusion, if my personal anecdotes can be at all generalized, life appears to be one disappointment after another, a series of illuminated weaknesses.
But there is nothing conclusive about that, “for we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested, as we are."
Jesus came to this earth as part of the divine, blameless and sinless. Yet, in taking up the physical form of man, he took up the battle of man’s weakness. As just one person, there was a limit to the number of people he could reach; the number crying out for help always exceeded the amount of help he had to give. The disciples, imperfect as they were, were given Jesus’ power of healing because Jesus’ expectation of alleviating suffering could not be reached by his physical form alone. Further, even Jesus became simply worn-out and exhausted. Multiple Gospel stories tell of Jesus seeking time away from the crowds in order to rest and rejuvenate. Although that rest was continually denied by the unending need and Jesus’ sense of compassion, by the end of three years of ministry, his body has reached its limit.
Perhaps Jesus experienced personal disappointment his relational and professional realm as well. Despite his best efforts, there were some people whom Jesus’ words simply could not reach. Even the people of Jesus’ hometown snubbed his words and deeds.
Would it not be easy to view his life’s work as incomplete on the many instances when even his own disciples failed to comprehend his message? Would it not be disappointing to think that all the meaning and power of his life and coming death were not enough to keep his closest friends awake?
And even Christ himself was tempted with the weakness of faith. As he prepares for his coming crucifixion, Jesus prays that, if it be the Father’s will, the cup should pass from him. After spending his entire life in preparation for such a death, he still finds himself deeply grieved and agitated as the end draws nigh.
Does a sense of grief weaken his sense of faith? Knowing the reason why he must die, is it then disappointing to not view his fate as savior of the world with eagerness?
As Christians we are continuously told that, in times of trouble, we should look to Jesus as a source from which to draw strength. Yet, perhaps just as important, is looking to Jesus as a source by which to validate weakness.
The Lenten season is often viewed with an air of gloom. From dust we have come and to dust we shall return. In this time, we are confronted with our own frailty and forced to acknowledge our own weaknesses. But let this not lead us to despair. The last forty days of Christ’s life were the days in which he was most connected to human weakness, but they were also the days in which he imparted some of his most meaningful wisdom and bestowed the all-strengthening gift of salvation and eternal life.
When we sing the words “Take, oh take me as I am” we are beseeching God to accept all that we have to offer but also that which we lack the strength to give. We may be disappointed by our own limits, but God is not.
The men following Jesus for those three years served as more than his disciples; they were there to aid and support him when he had reached his limit. So too, with each of us, God places people in our lives to aid and support us when we come up a bit short.
Through Christ, God showed the power that can be found in weakness; sometimes we can not, need not, and should not try to do it all on our own. And because, through his sacrifice of life, Christ worked through his weaknesses, we are no longer ruined by ours.
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