A Wretched Failure

My human tendency is to consider myself well-able to handle whatever life brings to me. I want to be in control.

But somewhere around the third or fourth time I found myself back at square one — ashamed, exhausted, and out of excuses — I had to admit that the plan wasn't working. I kept stepping into the same trap, expecting a different result, and getting the same one: failure, guilt, and shame. Every single time.

That pattern ran for twenty-five years.

I thought God would simply fortify my willpower — give me more of whatever I was already using — so I could finally win the fight in my own strength. But 2+2=4 every time you work it. And so did the results I kept getting every time I tried to solve my problem my way.

The Psalmist captured it better than I could: "Have mercy upon me, O Jehovah; for I am withered away: O Jehovah, heal me; for my bones are troubled" ( Psalm 6:2 ). David knew what it felt like to be completely spent. So did Paul: "O wretched man that I am! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" ( Romans 7:24 ). And before either of them, the writer of Psalm 51 traced the problem all the way back to the beginning — "Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me" ( Psalm 51:5 ).

This is not a problem of effort. It is a problem of nature.

Even Jesus — sinless, perfect, Son of God — said plainly: "The Son can do nothing of himself" ( John 5:19 ). If He said that, what exactly was I pretending? Why did I think that after being saved by grace I could live the rest of my life on my own? Why did I believe I could be the master of my own destiny?

It is a central paradox in the process of sanctification — that admission of powerlessness is actually the key to receiving victory. Paul said it plainly: "When I am weak, then am I strong" ( 2 Corinthians 12:10 ).

It was only when I stopped arguing with that paradox and started accepting it — honestly confessing that I am, in fact, a wretched creature without God — that a path to healing began to open. And I discovered a new way to use my will: not in fighting, but in trusting the God who had been waiting patiently for me to stop trying to do His job.

To Him be all honor and glory, forever and ever. Amen.