I’m fairly certain I will not survive the apocalypse. I like to think when push comes to shove, I’ll somehow morph into this super strong and smart rendition of MacGyver, Bear Grylls, and Katniss Everdeen combined. But the sad truth is I’ll most likely end up the clueless extra who gets squashed by Godzilla’s foot while she’s looking for her glasses and griping about the traffic jam.
Someone hit my car the other day. We were on our home from out of town. Fifteen minutes, one last goodbye to my dad and stepmom, and a gas stop were all that lay between us and the four-hour drive home. Or so we thought. One mile from my dad’s house, some gentlemen with the sun in his eyes decided it would be okay to pull out, even though he couldn’t tell if anyone was coming.
As the crash happened, everything slowed down. His SUV careening into the side of the car. The crunch of metal. The jerk of the seatbelt, and the sound of a floppy tire and smashed fender scraping asphalt.
Thankfully, no one was hurt. Well, at least not physically. The super woman picture I had of myself died somewhere between the metal crunching and me crawling across the driver’s seat to get out the car.
It’s easy to talk about being strong, or smart, or even honest when you’re not sitting on the side of the road trying to breathe, or failing at that big project, or asked a hard question where the answer is going to really make you look bad. I want to think that when it matters, I’ll do the right thing, speak up, know how to defeat the zombies.
But I don’t think I will.
I think I’m just a normal person, and my strong superhero powers will never activate. But I’m not sad about this. Well, I was for a few minutes, but then an amazing truth settled in my soul.
I’m a normal person loved by an infinite God who knows all about my failures, who called me by name, and who gives me an extraordinary life. Extraordinary as in, it’s not about me or about being strong.
Let’s face it, I will never be the picture of a fierce warrior I have in my head. But there is one thing I’ve discovered. That weak, fretful woman who can’t remember where she put the tow truck guy’s business card is already everything she will ever need to be because she’s loved by God Almighty.
I know there are people who’ve gone through far worse things than a fender bender, who’ve failed at far worse things than freezing under pressure, and who can’t let go of the picture in their head of how life was supposed to go. If you’re one of those people, stop looking at all the mistakes, letdowns, and missed opportunities, and for a minute, let yourself believe that everything He said and did is true.
From the beginning of creation to this very moment, God has been breathing a love story into humanity, and you’re part of that story. You and all your letdowns and failures. You when you’re anything but strong, and when no one else knows your name, because it’s not really about you either. It’s about a loving God who loves us so much he became one of us, so he could tip the scales and set us free, so we can love him back. He is strong, and that is enough.
And whatever happens in the zombie apocalypse, we’ll be okay.