Yes, forget your weakness, whatever that weakness may be. It is

The English bishop and scholar Joseph Barber Lightfoot once declared: “Yes, forget your weakness, whatever that weakness may be. It is egotism, it is selfishness after all, for it is a dwelling on self. Forget your weakness; and remember your strength.” These words, though born in the pulpit of faith, ring with a universal truth: that to dwell on frailty is to chain oneself, while to remember strength is to rise into the fullness of one’s destiny. For weakness is but a shadow; it only holds power if we stare too long into it.

Lightfoot reveals something profound when he calls the obsession with weakness egotism. Many believe that to dwell on their faults is humility. But true humility does not linger endlessly upon self, whether praising or condemning. To fixate on one’s flaws is still to worship the self, to turn the eyes inward rather than outward. Real humility looks beyond self altogether — to God, to others, to the work that must be done. Thus, to remember only one’s weakness is to live in a prison of mirrors, where the soul sees nothing but its own reflection.

To remember your strength, however, is to lift your gaze. It is to recall that within you dwells power not wholly your own: the strength of your upbringing, the strength of those who believe in you, the strength of the divine spark placed in every heart. This remembrance is not arrogance but gratitude, for it is the acknowledgment that you are not merely your failures. You are also the sum of your victories, your virtues, your resilience, and the gifts that have been entrusted to you.

History gives us luminous examples. Consider the story of Winston Churchill in the darkest days of World War II. His weaknesses were many: impatience, bouts of depression, and earlier political failures that had nearly ended his career. Had he dwelt on these, he would have been paralyzed, a prisoner of self-doubt. But he did as Lightfoot counsels — he forgot his weakness and remembered his strength: his voice, his courage, his indomitable will. In doing so, he roused not only himself but an entire nation, and through him, the free world found hope.

Lightfoot’s words also remind us that our weaknesses often loom larger in our own eyes than in the eyes of others. A soldier may lament his trembling hands, yet his comrades see only his courage in battle. A mother may weep over her failings, yet her children see only her love. When we obsess over our flaws, we deny the world the gift of our strengths. Thus, to dwell on weakness is not only selfishness, but a theft — a withholding of the light we might have given.

The lesson, then, is this: cast aside the endless meditation on what you lack. Instead, cultivate what you have. Speak not always of your fears, but of your hopes. Do not measure yourself by your scars, but by the battles you endured to earn them. For weakness may always remain, but strength is the force that carries you forward, and it is this force the world longs to see.

Practical wisdom follows: each day, name one strength you possess and live from it. If you are kind, show kindness more boldly. If you are steadfast, hold steady for those who falter. If you are creative, create without fear. And when your weaknesses rise to trouble you, do not bow to them — turn instead to your strengths, and let them lead you onward.

So remember, O listener, the voice of Joseph Barber Lightfoot: “Forget your weakness; and remember your strength.” For the one who dwells on weakness will wither, but the one who remembers strength will rise. And in rising, they will not only lift themselves, but also all those who walk beside them, lighting the path for generations to come.