looking through me

Tag: prayer

not strong enough

Life is heavy + I am weak = I need to be stronger.

I think that. Sometimes I even pray it: “Please make me stronger. I can’t carry all this heaviness.”

But, what if I’m not meant to carry it?

I’m a youngest child. And I’m small. (And competitive.) I’ve spent my whole life trying to keep up, trying to prove I could do what my brothers or friends or whoever could do, trying to prove I was big enough and strong enough.

But . . . I’m not.

And as the heaviness settles on my heart—from life’s challenges, my friends’ pain, my own loss—I realize the answer isn’t to try to match my strength to its weight. I can’t balance the scales. I will never be big enough or strong enough.

And, for once, my smallness, my weakness, is an asset . . . because the weight shifts from manageable to burdensome in a breath. I sense the “too much” and the “too heavy” quickly because it doesn’t take much weight to buckle my knees.

I cannot stand under this load. My slight frame speeds me to a place of surrender as I remember Jesus promised light burdens and an easy yoke. This soul-straining pressure is not that yoke. When my legs are shaking and my arms ache, I know I have traded His truth for another’s lies.

That’s the problem with my equation: when I pray to be made stronger, I’m praying for a one-to-one solution. I’m asking to break even, to hold my own. But my own strength will never be sufficient, no matter how strong I am.

And I feel my load lighten as I accept the weight of grace in its place.

 

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inexhaustible

As my thoughts wander through concerns and unknowns—as I pray for people I love and people I don’t even know—I slump under the weight of weariness.

There’s so much to worry about, to be discouraged by or overwhelmed with in this troubled world. Yet in the midst of my woefulness, hope whispers into the bleakness:

God never wearies.
God never worries.
God is inexhaustible.

It stops me in my mental tracks. God can never be exhausted—neither used up nor worn out. What rests heavily on my heart does not tire Him, does not cause Him to fret, does not fatigue His sovereignty. That’s not to say He is unmoved by it. He cares more deeply than I do, but He is not anxious about it. He is not limited by it.

He is strong enough, gracious enough, loving enough, just enough to carry me through this without being depleted of an ounce of His God-ness.

I look again at what troubles me and I am awestruck—He is not wearied by my questions and not worried by my what ifs. His peace is bigger than my fear.

I will never wear out or reach the end of His love for me. He was and is and always will be utterly inexhaustible.

 

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