This looks like more than I can do.
The laughter and games from an hour ago faded into the background as I lay on the couch, my eyes squeezed tight to keep from crying. I had been warned this could happen when I was first diagnosed, but I hadn’t expected this much pain. I willed my hands to let go of their death grip on the blanket that covered me and tried to focus on bringing myself back to a normal breathing pattern. If I could get my body to relax even a little bit it might ease some of the pain. In the background I could hear my mom’s concerned voice on the phone with the doctor. “Do we need to bring her in?”
I could sense that my dad was leaning over me, even if I couldn’t see him with my eyes closed. “How are you doing?”
I took a deep breath, and my voice came out in a weak whisper, far less convincing than I had wanted it to be. “I’ll be okay.”
He shook his head. “Gentle, you don’t have to be okay for us.”
I know I’m not strong enough to be everything that I’m supposed to be.
Inspirational posters seem out of place in a doctor office. Pictures of rainbows and kittens outlining phrases like “believe in yourself” or “you are stronger than you feel” seem ironic when placed in an office you only go to because you are sick and need help to get better. Yet inspirational posters continue to abound in medical clinics and I’ve seen a lot of them. One day as I was on my way home from an appointment, marveling at the irony of yet another beautifully outlined quote that had been hanging on the door, I heard a song on the radio that stood in stark contrast against the poster I had just seen. During a time when I was surrounded by people (and posters) telling me to believe in myself and that I was strong enough to do anything, the song I had discovered boldly proclaimed that I was not strong enough. It challenged me to rely on God’s mercy, not my own efforts. It reminded me that I was weak and that God was strong enough to cover my failings. I latched on to that promise and resolved to never let go.
I give up. I’m not strong enough.
I drove home with the Matthew West song still running through my head and that evening I ordered myself a simple leather bracelet with the words “Strong Enough” engraved in silver. I wanted to have it engraved with the words “Not Strong Enough” as a reminder of my dependence on God’s grace, but there wasn’t enough room. I decided it wouldn’t matter too much since I understood the reference. I now had a physical reminder that I wasn’t strong enough, but my Savior was. My original plan was to have the bracelet small enough to slip under the cuff of my sweatshirt so I could keep it with me as a reminder that I didn’t need to be strong enough on my own. But the bracelet arrived larger than I expected it to and I eventually stopped wearing it because it drew too much attention. There were curious glances and awkward questions and eventually I realized it was easier to leave the bracelet in a box at home rather than navigate the already difficult landscape of a college campus with a bracelet that let people know I was struggling. I promised myself at the time that I would keep the message of the bracelet close to me, even though the reason I took the bracelet off was because I wanted to appear as strong and healthy as any one else in my class. Maybe I wasn’t strong enough on my own, I reasoned, but no one needed to know that.
Hands of Mercy, won’t you cover me.
I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief that it was quiet at last. I thought I had gained a good idea of the amount of energy and effort working at FMSC would entail from regularly volunteering, but a month into the job I was realizing that this work was far more taxing, and far more rewarding, than I had ever dreamed it would be. I loved every minute of it. My work was energizing and fulfilling and full of people who reminded me of God’s love. But at the moment my body was exhausted, and I had been hit with another migraine. I slowly lowered my head into my hands and tried to will the pain away. Alone in the echoey room I whispered to myself “You don’t get to be sick here.”
I could admit that I wasn’t strong enough sometimes, but I didn’t want to admit it here. Not when I was in the middle of watching God working in powerful, amazing ways. I determined I would be strong enough.
Lord, right now I’m asking you to be strong enough for both of us.
Twenty two year olds aren’t supposed to need a pill box to keep track of their medications. They aren’t supposed to use their lunch break to call doctors or fall asleep on their dates. Twenty two year olds aren’t supposed to drop to a part time job because they are worn out from working a full time one. But at twenty two years old, that’s exactly what I did. Although there was a part of me that desperately wanted to work less hours at my job, a stubborn side of me held on to the idea that dropping to part time meant defeat. So, frustrated and tired, I found myself on the phone with my fiancé trying to reason my way out of the situation I was in.
“You can always go back to full time hours if you want,” he counseled me. “But planning a wedding and working full time when you already aren’t feeling well doesn’t seem wise.”
“I should be able to handle 40 hours a week,” I replied. “It feels like dropping to part time would be giving up. It would be acting like I’m weak.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, and before my fiancé had a chance to respond, the answer to my statement hit me.
I am weak.
I am emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes even physically weak. I used to admit that to myself. I knew it was true and didn’t hide from the facts. But somewhere along the way, I forgot I was weak. Somehow, the message on my bracelet that was supposed to remind me of my own dependency had changed into a defiant challenge that I could handle everything on my own.
My fiancé’s reply was gentle but firm, “You might not like this question, but are you willing to rely on God’s strength or do you just try to push through on your own?”
I'm broken down to nothing and I'm still holding on to the one thing
You are God and You are strong when I am weak
It’s been a year since my now husband asked me that question, and recently I found myself sitting in another doctor’s office, staring at yet another inspirational poster, and feeling frustrated and empty inside. As the nurse exited the room and the door softly clicked behind her, I leaned my head back against my chair and tried not to cry. My doctor seemed to have given up. Confused as I was as to why my symptoms were not improving, she was recommending I be seen at the Mayo for further testing. I didn’t want to be seen at the Mayo. I didn’t want to be seen anywhere. I wanted to get better and be left alone. “Lord, I don’t know how much more of this I can handle,” I whispered. In the stillness that followed, I remembered my answer: I can handle far less than I’ve already been through. God doesn’t ask me to be strong enough on my own. I ask that of myself. All my Savior asks is that I let Him be strong in my life. I smiled as I gathered up my purse and prepared to leave.
I know I'm not strong enough to be everything that I'm supposed to be
I give up I'm not strong enough
Hands of mercy won't you cover me
Lord right now I'm asking You to be strong enough for both of us
Cause I'm broken down to nothing and I'm still holding on to the one thing
You are God and You are strong when I am weak
If total dependence on God is the goal, weakness is an advantage. But if I’m fighting against being dependent on anything or anyone, I’m shutting out the very gifts God has brought into my life to carry me through. I’m not strong enough on my own, and that is exactly the way God intends it to be.
“I can do all things through Christ who gives me strengthens me.” - Philippians 4:13
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