https://www.awakin.org/v2/read/view.php?tid=2729A 10-year-old boy decided to study judo despite the fact that he had lost his left arm in a devastating car accident.
The boy began lessons with an old judo master. The boy was doing well, so he couldn’t understand why, after three months of training the master had taught him only one move.
The boy finally said, “Teacher, should I be learning more moves?”
“This is the only move you know, but this is the only move you’ll ever need to know,” the teacher replied.
Not quite understanding, but believing in his teacher, the boy kept training. Several months later, the teacher took the boy to his first tournament. Surprising himself, the boy easily won his first two matches. The third match proved to be more difficult, but after some time, his opponent became impatient and charged; the boy deftly used his one move to win the match. Still amazed by his success, the boy was now in the finals.
This time, his opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced. For a while, the boy appeared to be overmatched. Concerned that the boy might get hurt, the referee called a time-out. He was about to stop the match when the teacher intervened and said, “No, let him continue.” The match resumed, the boy's opponent made a critical mistake: he dropped his guard. Instantly, the boy used his move to pin him. The boy had won the match and the tournament. He was the champion.
On the way home, the boy and his teacher reviewed every move in each and every match. Finally, the boy summoned the courage to ask what was truly on his mind, “Teacher, how did I win the tournament with only one move?”
“You won for two reasons,” the teacher answered. “First, you’ve almost mastered one of the most difficult throws in all of judo. And second, the only known defense for that move is for your opponent to grab your left arm.” The boy’s biggest weakness had become his biggest strength.
Interesting dynamics here. God is our teacher. What we perceive as weakness may be a strength in the eyes of the Lord. Perspective shifts. We are unique personalities, we do not know the extent of our own personality- and we are quick to condemn our own quirkiness by some erroneous thought that our personality must fit a particular mold. Can we find strength in our struggles?
What is the perceived flaw? And, with a compassionate mind, what strength might be extracted from it?