Just Enough for Today

Let me tell you what regular suffering is teaching me:

I am human. I am broken. I need Jesus.

His grace is enough for what He calls me to do, not necessarily what I ask of myself.

Years ago, I read a book by Elyse Fitzpatrick about anxiety. She talked about how when we are anxious, we are allowing our imagination to go to a place that the Spirit of God has not equipped us to go. You want to imagine what it would be like to lose a child? What it would be like for your husband to die suddenly? Imagine a nuclear war? Go right ahead. But God’s grace does not go with you into your dark, cursed imagination.

I’ve never fully unpacked the theology of this but I think I agree.

I do know that God’s grace is sufficient for me. I know that His power is perfected in my weakness. I know that grace abounds so that I will have all that I need and lack no good thing.

But his grace doesn’t hold my hand and lead me into the terror of what if I die before I’m 50? No, that’s not Him.

His grace doesn’t invite me to imagine what suffering my children would endure if I slowly deteriorate and never bounce back. No, that’s not Him either.

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We visited the Mayo Clinic a few weeks ago and since then my weeks are full of doctor appointments, messages to nurses, insurance phone calls, another doctor appointment, sitting in my car and crying, and then pulling myself back together before going home.

When I can’t sleep because of the pain, I feel his grace near. When we were on the plane headed toward the Mayo Clinic, I was overcome with anxiety of flying. My hands shook and I tightly squeezed my eyes closed. Misplaced anxiety perhaps, but then it seems planes just fall out of the sky these days, so I’m not entirely unfounded.

Andrea Burke, I felt the Lord rebuke me like a stern parent. When have I ever not taken care of you?

This became the resounding refrain in doctor’s offices and when I prepared to go under anesthesia. Andrea Burke, when have I ever not taken care of you?

This is what he reminds me of when I can’t sleep. When the sorrows like sea billows roll. When that old Rock of Ages is sharp and steely, an icy sword in my flesh and a refining wave in my soul — Andrea Burke, when have I ever not taken care of you?

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His grace is enough for what he calls me to do, not necessarily what I ask of myself. This is what regular, every day, annoying, pain in my side and moving more slowly than I wish I could, suffering teaches me.

His grace is enough for what He calls me to do. Everything else is irrelevant.

I have grace to show up for my family. I’m able to work and write. I’m able to make medical decisions and work with incredible doctors. I’m able to garden, most days, and when I can’t weed and dig, I can at least admire and give thanks for perennials. I have grace to swim in the pool with my kids. I have grace to cook a meal and invite friends, family, and whoever else can make it into my home. And I have grace to lie in bed at night in the silence of my home and listen to these words — Andrea Burke, when have I ever not taken care of you?