“God never gives us something that we can’t handle.”
For some reason that so often repeated quote popped into my head as I was pleading with God on an issue that was breaking my heart.
I said it again slowly as if I’d never really heard it before.
My mind flashed with dozens of situations that I hadn’t been able to “handle” lately.
Just making it through a Saturday with both of my children at home is enough to send me in search of a tall bridge.
Phrases like “You’re pushing me to the limit,”
“I think I’m losing my mind,”
and “I need a vacation!”
pop out of my mouth daily.
Sometimes I’m so exasperated that saying anything is completely impossible.
A few words tumble out and end in sobs.
So where’s the “handling” part?
Has God misjudged how capable I am of handling what’s happening in my life?
Has He got me mixed up with someone else?
I guess I have to admit that I really don’t believe that phrase anymore.
My problems are too much for me to handle, as the tears on my pillow testify, and my children are more than I can take most days.
Let’s face it, just surviving in this world is a pretty tall order.
People on top of the world usually fall off eventually.
Maybe “I can’t take it anymore!” is what we all should yell at the top of our lungs,
then turn and lay it at the feet of Jesus.
Maybe God gives us what we can’t handle each and every day, so that each and every day,
we must turn to Him for the “handling.”