I Can’t

I Can’t

I’m not good with “can’t.” It’s hard for me to say and even harder to admit. For as long as I’ve lived, I’ve been conditioned to respond, “I can,” even if I’m pretty sure I (really, truly) can’t.

My trip to another city for a meeting was quick, logistically challenging, planned to the minute, and exhausting. If everything had gone right, it would have been difficult. And everything didn’t. Because I can’t make New Jersey transit trains run if the tracks are under repair. Or help “express” buses escape gridlock. Or command my own legs to move quickly up steep stairs when I’m carrying twenty pounds of gear. Say it after me, just for practice: “I’m sorry. That won’t be possible. I can’t.”

It’s probably no coincidence that God seems to have placed me lately in circumstances I have no power to change. The current list of things I cannot do by or for myself is looking as daunting as those three long flights of Penn Station stairs. Generally speaking (because generally is safer),

• I can’t heal disease or even mitigate its effects.
• I can’t multiply time or slow it down.
• I can’t keep the people I love safe from hurt or disappointment.
• I can’t make myself bulletproof to hurt or disappointment either.
• I can’t make someone love or want me who doesn’t.
• I can’t save anyone at all. Not even myself.

There. I’ve said it. I can’t. My needs are great, and my power is small. Very small. I know that. You know it too.

So here is my plan for today. I will not say “I can” when I know that I can’t. I will say “I can’t” more often—to others, to myself, and to God. Because I can’t and he can, I will throw myself on his mercy, ask for his help, lean hard on his grace, and rejoice in his unfailing love.

I can’t.

He can. He has. He will.

Amen.

Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.

2 Corinthians 12:9