
My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.
2 Corinthians 12:9
Reflection
You’ve gotten so used to being the strong one that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be cared for. You’re the person everyone in your life leans on — the one who shows up, the one who stays steady, the one who always finds the right words. But no one sees how heavy it’s become, and somewhere deep down inside of you, a belief has taken root. You think that if you let go, if you take a step back, if you pour into yourself, you’ll let everyone down.
But the truth is — God never asked you to be invincible. He never asked you to water down your needs for the sake of appearing okay. His love is not earned by denying your weakness, it meets you inside of it.
There is nothing holy about pretending you’re fine when you’re not. You don’t have to hold the world together for everyone else. You don’t have to be the tender one, the hero, the fixer. God is not impressed by your ability to hide how deeply you’re hurting. He is moved by your willingness to let him in, to stop performing strength, to start receiving grace.
Even Jesus wept. Even he rested. Even he asked for the cup to pass. There is no shame in your tiredness. There is no shame in the ache to be held for once instead of always doing the holding. God doesn’t love you more when you’re bulletproof and unaffected. He loves you completely — right here, in the fatigue, in the fragile places.
Whatever it is that is weathering you right now — you are allowed to lay it down. You are allowed to admit it’s heavy. You are allowed to ask for help. The kind of strength that God honors is the kind that surrenders. The kind that says: “I can’t keep doing this alone.”
And the good news is that you don’t have to.
You will never have to when God is by your side.
Prayer
God, I’m tired of pretending I’m fine. Tired of being strong when I feel weak. I’m tired of holding it all together out of fear that everything will fall apart if I let go. Teach me that my value isn’t in my ability to endure without breaking, but in my willingness to lean on you. I don’t want to keep performing strength — I want to live in the safety of your grace. Hold me here. Heal me here. Help me remember that I am loved, even when I have nothing left to give.
Amen.