Meek Does Not Mean Weak!
What is Meekness?
Meekness, according to the Bible, is being humble and gentle towards others. It is being submissive and obedient to the Lord. It is not being loud, brazen or overconfident in your own strength. Instead, it’s having a quiet but confident trust in the Lord and being willing and able to do whatever it is He commands.
Moses in Numbers 12:3 says, “Now the man Moses was very humble, more than all men who were on the face of the earth”
It does not mean you are a doormat, or allow people to walk all over you either.
David in 2 Samuel 16:11-12 – “And David said to Abishai and all his servants, ‘ see how my son who came from my own body seeks my life? How much more now may this Benjamite? Let him alone, and let him curse; for so the Lord has ordered. It may be that the Lord will look on my affliction, and that the Lord will repay me with good for his cursing this day.'"
To be meek does not mean you sit idly by or be a bystander while getting trampled on by others or when witnessing someone else committing evil. Meekness does not mean shy or weak in any way; it’s a calm, quiet, humbleness. A meek person, like David, does not automatically jump to defend himself because he trusts the Lord will do that for him.
My grandmother now in her seventies, sits quietly staring outside, nothing wrong with her except for old bones. She was the wife of an influential, pioneering Pastor, who grieved deeply when he passed on, just a few years prior… yet here she was, sitting quietly, watching the trees and birds flitting by.
She is the fiercest person I know.
My mother was seventeen when she had me, my dad was only twenty. In the eyes of the world, they were both babies themselves. I was raised by my God-fearing grandmother and grandfather.
I had a happy childhood – wouldn’t any kid who was lucky enough to be raised by their grandparents? Think about it, spoiled with chocolates, outings to the park, puppies… all that good stuff every holiday or weekend. I never had any worries, until I became a teenager, and lived with my mom who had gotten re-married (she and my dad divorced because he was diagnozed with schizophrenia when I was eight years old), so my mom got married to not only a physically abusive man, but also an annoying, self-entitled lout who lied, stole and was even fired from his job for harrassing other women. Also, I'd like to note was that he was not Christian, and there are many wonderful people I know who aren't Christian, but this guy was Hindi, and every so often he would force me and my little sister to attend the parties hosted at his parents home that were dedicated to their eight-handed or elephant deities. Me being a kid, had no say in the matter, and I had to go, and witness trance-like dances, lots of binge-drinking after the 'holy prayers' and succumb to a night of heated arguments between him and my Catholic mother when we got home late at night (mostly she would yell at him for over-drinking and acting like an idiot). The more time I spent with him and my mom, the more annoyed I became, not only at how he treated her but how he really annoyed me with his chauvinistic, dishonest ways.
However, he got on my nerves more and more, not because I had to get in the middle of their arguments by physically getting between them when they argued and fought, but because he put my mom in the hospital a few times from the way he physically beat her up in his drunken rages and on top of that showed no remorse whatsoever. Yet she would recover and go back to being a dutiful wife – she’d cook and clean for him and basically “take care’’ of him – a grown man who acted like a baby. She had no time for me or my little sister, and although this may sound like jealousy, it wasn't. All I wanted was a ‘normal’ childhood. This I never got.
Growing up, the only thing I had to buffer the incessant bickering of the two of them was to have my friends over all the time. I was a tomboy and at thirteen years old I preferred my friends who happened to be boys to anyone else. We’d hang out at my house playing video games after a day of rollerblading or cycling outside in the neighborhood. This apparently bothered my stepfather – ‘why, because he felt ashamed to fight with my mom because my friends were always hanging around?’ I wondered. Maybe. My friends were big, and tough. He probably didn't like that. So he complained to my grandparents who were my major caregivers, and my mother’s lifeline of support, and who also happened to be her loving in-laws who treated her better than her parents ever did).
That was the first time I saw my grandmother get angry. She basically told him not to frustrate me; she said “Now look here, I don’t care whether my granddaughter’s friends are visiting her, you let her be!” her few words were nothing short of a tight slap to his face. I guess she had had enough. He was afraid, and said not another word. Nobody had ever heard my grandmother angry before.
My grandmother was the type of person who was tolerant, calm and took her concerns to the Lord. She never voiced them. Ever. Every morning she was always deep in prayer, and every even I would see her kneeling down at the foot of her bed praying. Rarely did something rile her. She always told me to remain calm, not get agitated and to leave my problems at the Lords feet. Which I do now. But she also showed me that meek doesn't mean weak, not at all; and that when the meek speak up to fight for someone, its loud and its powerful and it’s taken seriously.
Be meek, but be tough, just as Jesus taught us.
“But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right. cheek, turn to him the other also.” [Matthew 5:39] because “blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.” [Matthew 5:5]— Jesus
Do you know anyone who is meek yet strong?
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