Dear friend,
The load you carry is too heavy for your human back.
The weight of your life, of your very humanity, presses down on your shoulders. Fragile, fleeting, blown away like grass—crumbled into dust, this is our human experience.
The life of mortals is like grass;
they flourish like a flower of the field.
The wind blows over it, and it is gone,
and its place remembers it no more.
(Psalm 103:15-16)
We wait and groan for the day when the old order of things will pass away, when tears will be wiped from our eyes and the burdens we carry will fall, released. (Rev. 22:3-5)
You may have been told, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”
Do not believe it.
Being human is more than we can handle.
This is not a sign of weakness, nor of faithlessness. Our bodies grow weary, our circumstances weigh heavily, our hearts tire, and life can feel unbearably lonely.
We are not called to grit our teeth, push harder, or be stronger.
We are invited by the Holy Spirit into a relationship that holds us—grace-filled, merciful, unwavering—right in the midst of our mess.
Hear this: it is not about you being stronger; it is about knowing God.
When you know God, trust grows.
When trust grows, love deepens.
The journey of love is long, patient, slow—it grows quietly in the soil of trust, nurtured by the steady presence of God. This love of God is what holds you in the midst of this fragile and fragmented life.
Jesus says:
“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
This rest is not something we force. It is something we walk into, step by step, breath by breath, alongside Jesus over a lifetime.
The Spirit moves gently among us, whispering: you do not have to carry this alone. Your fragility is not failure; it is an invitation. An invitation to draw nearer, to lean closer, to live lighter in the presence of the One who holds all things and who holds you.
Take joy that you cannot handle your burden. Receive peace that life is more than you can bear. Know in your spirit that you are not called to be stronger, but to know God.
Instead, the Holy Spirit welcomes you: broken, fragile, tender, anxious, alone, and exhausted. All is welcome. All is held.
Some things are not healed, resolved or made beautiful in these days. But all things may be held with the grace, mercy and goodness of God that we don’t have to solve it, make it, earn it, or change it in these days.
Match your steps to the Holy Spirit this week, gently, and with intention.
Not because you are stronger, but because the Spirit is strong for us.
Thanks for reading. I am praying for you!
thanks for your continued work in this space. I am grateful.
Thanks, Dear. I love you. You are God’s gift to me in these days.