A Strength That Will Not Fail
by Donavon L Riley

God knows the thin walls we’re made of. He knows our brittleness, the fractures that run deep beneath the surface, and He doesn’t demand that we act strong when we’re not. No, God is not a taskmaster asking us to prove ourselves, to strain and press on as if we’re mountains. He sees the truth of how easily we’d crumble if left on our own, and He meets us precisely in that frailty. In this raw, unguarded awareness of our limits, His grace flows like a hidden river beneath dry soil—lifting us, filling the hollow chambers of our hearts with a strength we could never summon alone.

And here’s the mystery: God doesn’t ask us to muster courage from somewhere deep inside. He isn’t after some heroic self-reliance. Instead, He steps into our emptiness, steady and sure, saying, Lean on Me. It’s as if He plants within us a trust beyond anything we’ve ever known, a trust that goes deeper than the earth we stand on. This is not a call to fight our way up some holy mountain; it’s an invitation to release our illusions of self-sufficiency, to stop wrestling with our own limitations and accept that the strength we crave can’t be wrenched from muscle or bone. God, in His strange, unexpected mercy, fills us with His resilience, His strength, not as something we summon but as a gift poured in.

In this field of surrender—where every ounce of pride is emptied—God becomes our shelter, overshadowing us with a tenderness that guards against every blow we’re too weak to withstand. Here, the words of the psalmist rise like a lifeline: My heart trusted in Him, and I am helped. It’s not a feeble wish; it’s a promise, alive and steadfast. God doesn’t watch from afar; He steps in, His presence more solid than the ground beneath us. He calls us not to fight but to rest, to let go, to stand in the strength that only He provides. And in this trust, this strange loosening of our grip on control, we find ourselves more whole, upheld by something ancient and unbreakable.

This is the gift, the quiet and unfathomable grace. In the end, it is He who holds us steady, who keeps us from falling apart, who fortifies what is fragile with His own might. We come with nothing but need, and He meets us with everything we lack, drawing us into a life woven through with His power. It’s a mystery beyond all reckoning—God, who needs nothing, steps in close, cradling our weakness, breathing His strength into our bones, not because we’ve earned it, but because He loves to fill what is empty and heal what is broken. And in that, we find a strength that will not fail.