One of the most constant battles in my life is that of accepting my limits. More than any external voice, it’s the internal drive – to accomplish stuff I want to do, be involved with things that matter to me, and be social with people I enjoy. All of it. Whenever I want. As much as I want. 

Don’t get me wrong – it’s been a long journey of learning how to push beyond what I thought I was capable of, and to expand my limits in a safe, healthy, and effective way. The only reason I’m where I am today is because of the people who walked alongside me and insisted I was capable of more than I thought I was. So in that way, I’ve been taught to go beyond my limits, but that does not negate the hard and fast reality that I am human, and that the status of my health means I still moderate my pace and live an intentional lifestyle. 

Lately I’m reminded that nearly everything, when taken to the extreme, is unhealthy. I’m neither an inert stone incapable of anything, nor am I God with all power. I may be made in God’s image, but reflecting His characteristics are something I do as a finite creature, and God is infinite. This is not a design flaw – it’s a beautiful reality and a gift. Even in the garden of Eden when all was perfect, humankind was still confined to physical bodies. They still ate, drank, and walked in the garden, one step at a time. They still moved through time in seconds, minutes, and hours, and it was entirely “good.”

I find myself ripping the hairbrush through my hair in haste each morning despite waking up on time. I peel my attention away from my hobbies to take a “quick bathroom break” despite no other plans for the day. I’ve literally dislocated a finger while stirring a pot of food because of some built-in urgency that was entirely unwarranted. 

I’ve had seasons when my limits were extreme – being beddbound or in a wheelchair or needing my Dad to carry me up stairs as a grown adult woman. I’ve also had seasons of lighter symptoms, when I shot for the moon in working, social gatherings, cooking, hobbies, dreams, goals, and striving. And while I can often white-knuckle anything for a time it seems, I am experiencing a growing appreciation and earnest respect for my plain human limits. I can arrange my schedule with a varying blend of productivity, leisure, and self care, but ultimately, it MUST contain all three, because the emphasis of one is always at the expense of the others. 

I cannot say yes to every social gathering.

I cannot say yes to every hobby. 

I cannot say yes to more hours at work. 

I often feel trapped by the razor-thin margin in my life for mistakes, and just wish I could take a break from the constant health management without dramatic repercussions that ripple into the lives of those around me. 

Sometimes I just don’t feel like exercising. But I cannot afford to lose years of conditioning against gravity for a week of enjoyable laziness. 

Sometimes I don’t feel like having breakfast. But I cannot afford to faint at work. 

When I see those who treat their bodies far worse and with less ramifications, I admit, my flesh wants to scream “IT’S NOT FAIR!” My dream is to do it all. Not just to take a break, but to aim high, too. To sprint for fun, to crush it at a full-time job and pay my bills with plenty to spare. I want to further my education in the things that I love and to become an expert in my field. I want to write a book, speak throughout the country, become a doctor, own a cow, start a restaurant, exhibit my art all over the world, have a family, and maybe a dog, too. 

I’m tired of having a weekly existential crisis about the things I wish I was capable of. I’m tired of the flashes of hatred I have for my body and mind when I come up against hard limits with the simple tasks of living. And I’m tired of straining towards a life that’s just not possible. Because what I WANT, deep down, is to be God. Or at the very least, to be LIKE God. And is not that the original sin? 

It is NOT a burden to accept one’s humanity – it is a gift. 

Whether it’s physical form, or the limits of human knowledge and understanding, I am on a journey of surrendering my life to Christ’s care and control, and to trust Him to be strong when I am weak. 

There’s a verse in 2 Corinthians when Paul is describing how he’s been asking God to take away some sort of trial in his life. He calls it the thorn in his side. He says: 12:8  Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

I believe this is a reality. 

Sometimes I forget this is the whole point of the gospel. It’s called “good news” because it IS. It’s not just a miserable life of despair and purposeful misery – it’s a call to recognize our state of brokenness as it is and to be saved, strengthened, and helped. It’s that we DON’T have to be good enough or strong enough because God is, and that we have hope that soon he will bring fullness to the restoration that we only experience partially on this side of heaven. 

Again, He is STRONG in our weakness. He is strong in his supernatural intervention. In his empowerment of our truth-based choices. In his spiritual revelation. In His use of community to support those in need (like me and you). To speak through the mouths of friends. To encourage one’s heart with scripture. And in many more ways. 

Three things I am choosing to lean into (and invite you to as well) is gratitude, mindfulness, and active participation. 

Gratitude, because there is always something to set my heart on. On my WORST day, I still have friends I can reach out to. I still have medications that help me and that I am grateful exist and are prescribed to me. I am grateful to have a bed and bedroom in a home in a neighborhood. I am grateful to have a mind capable of problem-solving. 

Mindfulness, because when everything feels big and ambiguous, it is a gift to remember one’s place in the physical world right here, right now. That I have breath. Breathing in, filling my belly. Breathing out, feeling it fall. I have warm skin. Ridged fingernails. I have a place in this world as a person made in God’s image, and to exist is to honor God. 

Finally, to engage in active participation. There are many things outside my control, but there are also things within it. When victimhood seeps into my thoughts, I take out a notebook and make a plan. What are things I can do to help my body (like have an electrolyte drink)? What are the critical things I can do now to help myself succeed later (like eat, or take my supplements, or exercise)? Are there any big-picture things I need to do to address a recurring issue (like say no to an energy-sucking event that I don’t actually value, or manage my hours at work differently). 

Is it possible that you and I are exactly where we need to be? That no day goes by without God’s knowledge, and that no matter what, He is still working things together for good? 

Is it possible that it’s ok? 

That it’s simply, ok, to have a hard day or a hard few years? Is it ok that we’re not perfect? 

God, please empower us on this journey of learning how to graciously accept our limits, and to bask in the safety of your sovereignty, love, and strength even when we are weak.