Weakness doesn’t come with applause. It’s the moment when you lock the bathroom door and cry quietly so no one hears. It’s staring at a full calendar with zero energy. It’s the late-night worry that keeps looping through your mind, whispering, “You’re not enough.”
Maybe your weakness today is physical—chronic pain, a diagnosis you didn’t see coming or sheer exhaustion that rest won’t fix. Maybe it’s emotional—anxiety that makes your chest feel tight, grief that won’t let go, burnout from giving too much and receiving too little. Or maybe it’s spiritual—feeling distant from God, unsure if your prayers are even being heard.
Whatever form it takes, weakness has a way of making us feel small, exposed, even ashamed. But Paul’s words turn that upside down: weakness isn’t a liability—it’s a place where God’s power goes to work.
When we stop pretending we’ve got it all under control, when we stop trying to muscle through with our own strength, something sacred happens. God moves in. He meets us—not with judgment, but with grace. Not with pressure, but with presence.
His power shows up not when we finally feel strong, but when we admit we’re not.
So, sister, take a breath. Let go of the belief that you have to fix everything, carry everyone or always keep it together. You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to ask for help. You’re allowed to be weak—because you serve a God who is not.
You’re not failing. You’re being filled. Right there in your emptiness, God’s strength is rising.
Today, lean into grace. Not the kind that glosses over hard things—but the kind that lifts your head and whispers, “You’re still Mine. I’ve got you.”
And that, friend, is more than enough.
