"For when I am weak, then am I strong."

“Sandra, do you want me to read it to you?”

“No, Dad. If I don’t do it myself, I’m not sure I’ll ever beat this.”

I’m not sure how long we would sit together each time I wanted to read my scriptures. But slowly, carefully, with my Dad sitting beside me, I forced each word from my mouth until I had finished each verse. I was in eighth grade.

What was so challenging? I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but I later heard it was Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I don’t prefer using the label as much as briefly describing what it actually feels like. An overwhelmingly powerful sensation that a certain action will destroy me. It is as much physical as mental. Of course Satan would choose scriptures and prayer as the initial targets for these attacks. Reading the scriptures became a painful process. The feeling that I was fighting against an overwhelming current of opposition threatening to drown me.

I’ve always liked reading the book Ella Enchanted (you’ll understand if you’ve read it), because it feels just like that—your whole body in rebellion against the mind until you submit to the impulse—or until you beat it. That was the idea behind reading aloud to my Dad. His stability supported my rational mind until I could win the battle.

Fast forward to my last semester of college. I was filling out my mission papers. I called my Dad for help. We began a discussion of some of my trials and frustrations. I confessed some things I was still dealing with and asked him why it was happening. I felt crazy.

“You’re not crazy,” he answered confidently. “Lots of people go through this sort of thing.”

“But what is it? I don’t understand it.”

“It’s just like in eighth grade, Sandra. You have OCD.”

That was the first time he explained it like that. I was surprised. I didn't know if that was the real source, but I did want to talk about the implications. I wanted to know what to put on my mission papers.

“Has it stopped you at all from doing the things you need to do?” My Dad asked.

“No. Honestly, no. I’m almost done with college, I’m working, and I’m the Relief Society President. While I know it happens, I also know God has helped me a lot. It has never stopped me from progressing.”

“Then, that’s what you should write down on your papers.”

I got called to serve in Campinas, Brazil. I successfully completed the 18-month journey.

I could talk about other varying challenges faced on my mission, only some of which were based in OCD, but that’s not the point. Instead, let’s jump to a few months after I returned. I was living in Provo over the summer with an early morning custodial job.

It was while I was preparing to leave for work one morning that the feelings hit me again, powerful, overwhelming, nearly forcing me to the ground. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. That’s what it whispered. But perhaps remembering something learned from the mission, I dropped to my knees instead. I began to pray.

In that moment, something happened. Like a burden lifted, the compulsive feeling completely dissipated. A sense of calmness and peace replaced it. I was free. Even if for just the moment. I knew it had come from a source outside of myself.

That was the moment that inspired lyrics to one of the songs that I’ve written:

The breakdown, the turn around

Light dawns on the fields of a battleground

The test of will is not trying to kill

the strength of the soul soon to be revealed

For hope makes right all the broken things

It’s on my knees that I’m still breathing

That was not the last time I would face such a mental and physical battle with my OCD, but it did teach me something. It felt almost like the culmination of experiences all leading to a simple, undeniable truth:

My only hope, the source of my strength, and the absolute power that saves me comes through Jesus Christ. It is real. I don't think I say that enough.

I often think on the words of Paul in 2 Corinthians, when he ponders his own, personal “thorn in the flesh.”

7 And lest I should be ^aexalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a ^bthorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.

 8 For this thing I besought the Lord thrice, that it might depart from me.

Three times he asks God to take away his struggle. And yet the Lord does not. Why would he not take it away? That’s the question I posed to my Seminary students this week. I also asked them why mortality can’t just be easy. Why can’t we have all the answers to the test?

Our discussion was enlightening. I am always impressed with their answers. We talked about how God knows us better than we know ourselves. He already knows whether or not we’ll remain faithful in the midst of trials, or when we don’t think we have all the answers. So, why the test? Partially because WE don’t know. We need the test for our own growth. It is in our weakness that we often come to recognize and draw closer to the source of our strength.

Paul gives his own answer, based on revelation from God.

9 And he said unto me, My ^agrace is sufficient for thee: for my ^bstrength is made perfect in ^cweakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may ^drest upon me.

 10 Therefore I take pleasure in ^ainfirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in ^bpersecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake: for when I am ^cweak, then am I ^dstrong.

So, yes, his “thorn in the flesh” was to keep him humble. But this was not for the sake of humility alone. It is because our humility puts us in a position of willingness to learn from and about God, and to become as He is.

I am inspired by the Martin Handcart company—a pioneer group that got caught in an early winter while crossing the Rocky Mountains and lost around 150 people through starvation and exposure. It is said that one of the survivors once made the following statement:

"Every one of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives for we became acquainted with him in our extremities."

They became "acquainted" with God. Can you imagine that?

I perhaps did not fully understand the idea at first, but I have learned some things through some of my own, smaller extremities. Through them, I have come to learn and rely on the Savior Jesus Christ with more zeal and desire. I have, through that effort, begun to feel a real presence in my life that has changed my perspective of my experiences.

Rather than seeing only that girl in tears huddled by herself in the hallway, feeling lost and alone, I imagine instead that I was never alone. That in a very real sense the very presence of my Savior was near, weeping and waiting and supporting me. The Spirit is sent not always to remove the trial, but to bear witness of His presence.

I am learning to see a God of tender patience and gentle concern, willing to push me along and help me step by step. Somewhat like a father sitting for hours beside me as I forced myself to read word after word until I was strong enough to move forward, never alone, but with a greater understanding of what a divine daughter of God is capable of—a potential magnified and attainable only through God’s constant care and support.

The Savior suffered for more than our sins in the Garden of Gethsemane. He suffered our pains and weaknesses, our addictions and moments of trial and depression—and He overcame them. That power to overcome is what I can call upon. And as I do, His strength infuses me with power and makes me more than I ever was. 

“My ^agrace is sufficient for thee…” The Lord declared to Paul, to which he recognized, “for when I am weak, then am I strong.”

Independent of the nature or depth of each of our “thorns in the flesh,” the pattern is the same. I just want to add my witness that it is real—Christ’s saving power is not just an inspirational ideal to encourage the disheartened. The power of His Atonement is an actual, redemptive, saving power that can be felt and experienced. God’s grace is real.

No matter how lost, alone, or helpless we feel, we can endure. If we learn to trust in and rely on the Savior. He can make us strong.

“And this is ^alife ^beternal, that they might ^cknow thee the only true ^dGod, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast ^esent.”

“Behold, God is my salvation; I will ^atrust, and not be afraid; for the Lord ^bJehovah is my ^cstrength and my ^dsong; he also has become my salvation.”