For when you feel like you just can't.

Today I had a bunch of moments when I said inside, "I just can't." The moments seemed to pile up towards the end of day, primarily, when my head was growing fuzzy, my emotions frazzled, and my body weary from the day.

I was cooking, and thinking about something, and hearing my son's voice saying something barely audible over the loud sizzling in my pan. "What?" I said to him, glancing over my shoulder. He held up a large, hard-backed book and its torn off cover in two separate hands, and repeated something I still couldn't make out.

I just can't, I thought. I've heard so many of his words, fixed so many of his problems today. I just can't give my attention to a single additional one right now.

The phone rang and I mistakenly answered it. It was a recording saying my cell phone payment was due. I added to the mistake by trying to enter the payment right then while cooking, while parenting, while juggling the thousand thoughts in my head.

At a pause, I asked my girl to get ready for bed, and then realized I'd stripped her sheets off earlier in the day and forgot it was left unmade.

I just can't, I thought. I don't have it in me to remake her bed right now.

She was thankfully reading quietly, but happened upon a funny part of the book. She begged me to come read it, to share in her delight, and oh, the funny part wasn't that long, she said.

No, I so didn't want to. I just can't, said my head.

And I was irritated because I saw she left her purse on the floor, which attracted our dog. He was halfway through the pack of gum when I caught him, my phone on the counter still talking at me through the speaker. But when I took the gum away, he grabbed the Chapstick.

It's not even food! I thought. I just can't deal with this dumb dog right now. I'm in the middle of cooking dinner, trying to keep up with the automated payment thing on the phone, and....

I tried to quickly pry the Chapstick from his mouth, but he only clamped down harder on it, my thumb in his grip now as well. It hurt so bad I cried.

My kids suddenly got very obedient, startled by my tears.

I just can't. I just can't.... said the voice in my head.


But I did.

By God's grace alone, I did.

A peace settled on the night, somehow. Miraculously. I wrapped my thumb with a cold pack and cooked with my other hand. My call got disconnected from being neglected, but I was sort of relieved. I fed the kids. I made her bed with clean sheets. Then I read the funny pages of the book and chimed along with her. I even patiently asked her to clean off her Chapstick container with soap.

And when I tucked my son in, I took notice of the book lying on his floor with a missing cover. I gently asked what happened. The spine broke, and it was even a Star Wars one, he said. I apologized for being rude to him earlier. He apologized for saying he brushed his teeth when he really didn't.

We prayed together, asking Jesus for forgiveness because we are all broken, all sinners. We all just can't sometimes.

But He can and He does and He wills for us to lean on Him.

Oh, how I need Him every hour, and particularly the late ones in the day.

I'm not quite sure what that word is, that thing that pulls me from "I just can't" to "I can," but I think it's grace.

And the truth is that the phrase I just can't is a lie our enemy speaks to our hearts; he is the one who wants to convince us that there is no hope for us, no strength left, no possible way. Oh, it's an insidious lie, and somehow sparkles just like the truth at times.

"Have mercy on us and help us, if you can.” {said the man with a sick son}

“What do you mean, ‘If I can’?” Jesus asked.

“Anything is possible if a person believes.”

Mark 9:22-23 

Jesus can. How much do you believe it?

He offers grace to cover my sin.

He lifts me up and gives me strength when I can't.

He shows me that grace is what I need to receive and what I need to give, as generously as possible on both accounts.

I believe. I just forget sometimes. And His grace covers that too.

Praying you have a sense of His grace-covering today and that you believe He can when you feel you just can't.

The dream with the wolves

A couple of years ago, I had this dream. It was so vivid. And terrifying.

I was somewhere with a sort of empty landscape, like the desert, and it was just after sunset. The light was dim and shadows were all around me. I was alone and afraid.

Soon, a small pack of snarling wolves approached me, viciously baring their teeth and advancing. I could tell they were intent on attacking me and I had nowhere to run. I felt defenseless and weak, as they began to lunge and bite me. I hadn't a sense of such pain and terror in a dream in years.

And then I realized I wasn't alone. In the shadows stood the figure of a man nearby. I knew it was Jesus, and yet He stood motionless. He seemed unaffected by my torment. I kept trying to dodge the wolves and turn away from their biting, but they were relentless. I felt a panicked confusion that Jesus wouldn't rescue me. He simply stood in the shadow, watching. I didn't know why He wouldn't help me, and so I endured a sort of injury from Him as well.

I must also add that I was ignoring something inside my spirit. It was illogical, this idea, and so it took a long time for me to listen. I already somehow knew that if I were to scream out, "I'm enough!" the wolves would stop hurting me. All I had to do was shout it out. It was as if Jesus was giving me this shield, and I refused to use it. Because I couldn't believe it.

So I chose to fight in my own ways first. It just made more sense. Dodging, hiding, feverishly praying, yelling at the wolves. None of it worked. They bit and growled and hurt me again and again.

Finally, out of options, feeling broken, abandoned, and desperate for relief, I screamed it out. "I'M ENOUGH! I'm enough. I'm enough..." And instantly the wolves retreated.

At the same moment, there came another agreement I knew I needed to make in my heart. Not just "I'm enough," but "You are enough," as well. I needed to believe that even when I can't understand God's ways, He is and has everything I need. As soon as I could speak out and believe that I was enough in His eyes and He was enough for me, peace settled, nothing could attack me, and I began to heal.

Now, it is a couple years later, and I'm still working the truths of this dream out into my real life.

I had a doozy of a week last week. I didn't realize for several days of being attacked (in a spiritual sense) that that was exactly what was happening. I was trying twenty other ways to dodge the lies that were taking bites out of me. But the dream...I wasn't remembering it, and in a moment of surrender and silence, the Lord brought it to mind. All you need to do to be free is shout to those wolves, "I'm enough," and "He is enough," because I AM. I could feel them starting to retreat as soon as I conceded, "Yes, OK, I remember, Lord."

God spoke these "enough" weapons to me a long time ago, and they haven't expired. I don't know if they resonate with you in your own life, if your wolves are like mine, attacking your self-worth and sufficiency, and God's sufficiency too, sometimes with relentless force. And I don't know if you've reasoned with God like I have, saying, "God HOW, exactly, am I enough, when I know I am definitely NOT, when I am definitely falling short in all my jobs?" This was His answer for me this week: "You are enough, because I am the rest." His power is perfected in my weakness. When I fall short, He makes up the difference. He is the rest. I can't always see it, but I believe it. And belief in the truth makes for quite a formidable shield.

And one more thing. In retrospect, I remember that shadowed man in my dream, the passive Jesus. The problem is that Jesus is never passive. He is always acting on behalf of His children, so when he seems passive, I've learned it is to allow us room to take our own steps of faith. A good parent eventually lets go of the newly walking baby's hand. She lets her child take age-appropriate risks. The Lord is no different. Now I realize that in my dream, He was not passive. He was waiting. He didn't abandon me in my struggle (even though I felt like He did). He was at my side, witnessing and feeling my every pain, and praying for me to find courage.

Friends, that is what He is always doing! Standing nearby, like a good parent, ready to brace us if we fall, but also hoping we take that next wobbly step of faith.

Short and Sweet Sunday

I woke up this morning - well, I wasn't even fully awake - and these words were in my head and in my heart.

I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Psalm 27:13

The words trickled along, my mind sleepily turning them over one by one, and I noticed I knew them.

I knew the verse, and I knew its truth.

I've stood on the brink of despair and remembered His goodness. I have been able to turn my back on confusion and hopelessness and choose trust because He is good. And I can say I know it because I have seen it. I don't have blind faith, I've seen His goodness over and over again.

How many times have you and I seen His goodness in our lives, even in what appear to be small ways? An uncountable number. And yet we still at times stand on the brink, seeing despair as our only option.

I would say I've learned to turn my back on that despair through trial and error, meaning I've yielded to despair way too many times before I found the courage to dig up memories of the Lord's goodness and choose to believe I'd see it again. Faith is not easy.

But so worth it. You have seen the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living too, so next time you face that precipice, pull out those memories with all you have. Use them like weapons, and ask God to show you His goodness again. It may not be in the way you'd prefer, but He will, I have no doubt.

And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.
Romans 8:28

We've all seen His goodness. The trick is remembering it when it counts most.