His Strength, Not Mine
By Glenna Marshall
I’ve hit a wall recently that’s made everything in life seem a bit more challenging. Stresses of grief, illness, and busyness have intensified my desire to be stronger than I am. I want to stand firm through whatever comes my way, to pretend like I have it all together, to appear as though I’m immovable in suffering. But sometimes I just feel so weak. Too weak to handle the griefs of others when my own feels like too much to carry. Too weak to know what advice to give when someone at church is struggling. Too weak to carry out my commitments when I haven’t been able to sleep in weeks.
Weakness feels like the enemy of ministry life. People expect me to be strong, right? My church members need me to be a joyful pillar of strength they can turn to, don’t they? But maybe that’s not what they need. What can a strong, unfeeling, always-competent person offer to others who feel their own weaknesses? Perhaps the recognition of weakness is a gift if it helps us to empathize with others in their own sufferings and trials. Perhaps weakness is a blessing if it reminds us where to go for strength. Maybe strength isn’t an ever-smiling, say-yes-to-everything, “nothing gets me down” kind of thing. Maybe strength is merely steadfastness in spite of weakness.
Recently, I was skimming through the Psalms for encouragement. I read through Psalm 62 slowly, savoring the words about the strength of the Lord. He is the strong One, not me. David wrote, “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation, my fortress; I shall not greatly be shaken” (Ps. 62:1-2). We remain steadfast through trials not because we’re strong but because God is. Another iteration of this sentence appears in verses 5-6, followed by the encouragement to pour out our hearts to the One on whom our salvation and glory rests. There’s a lot of freedom there. God is strong. He is the One I turn to in weakness, not myself. While the world might tell me that I am enough, that what I bring to the world is enough, that I am the captain of my own destiny—I know that all of these things fall appallingly short. I am not enough. I am one small person. I can only do so much in life. My life is a breath in comparison with the vastness of God.
And yet, God has delighted to invite me into His work. Whether it’s in parenting, working my job, serving in ministry to my local church, or supporting my husband—God has included me in His work and is delighted to use a very weak vessel wherein His strength can shine brightly (see 1 Cor. 1:26-31). His strength, not mine. Because that’s what we’re after here in this Christian life, right? His glory, not ours. He is the author of life and the One who has written this beautiful redemption story, yet He kindly sweeps us into it in our own small, weak ways so that we can taste the joy of His glory and His strength.
When we’re especially aware of our personal weaknesses, David reminds us that “power belongs to God, and that to you, O Lord, belongs steadfast love” (Ps. 62:11). We don’t have to be strong for others. We don’t have to be unmoved by sorrows or stresses. We don’t have to pretend that life is easy for us. We only have to run to the One who is always strong, always good, and always full of steadfast love. As the Lord sustains us, we can point others to His faithfulness that will never disappoint.
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence: Why God is Always Enough (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness: The Beauty of Ordinary Perseverance in a Demanding World (Crossway, June 2020).