By His Strength I Pick up the Next Toy

I’m writing this on Easter Sunday. It’s a day that radiates in my memory with sunshine, Sunday school, deviled eggs, lemony desserts, and bare feet in the grass. The days leading up to Easter are filled with hopeful expectation. We anticipate the celebration of our risen Savior. 

Today, the skies are gray, the grass damp with newly dropped rain, and we attended church via a live stream from our den. My heart is worshipful but my bones are weary. The accompanying Easter elements—the ones that fill my heart with gratitude and remind me that my life and blessings are only available to me through the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross—those are missing today.

The Power of the Resurrection in Ordinary Life

I woke up before the rest of the household to read the passages in Luke about the resurrection. Those truths sustain me through this day. I am usually buoyed along by chocolate bunnies, flowery dresses, and hugs from family and friends. Today, with all those things stripped back in the midst of the pandemic, I find myself wholly reliant on the hope of the empty tomb. The way it should be, really. No part of me is propped up by the beautiful adornments of Easter or the cheery greetings warranted by family gatherings.

Instead, I take a deep breath and stand up at the call of my two year-old. My whole physical world has shrunk down to the size of our modestly sized house. Children’s books lay strewn next to me on the floor. Remnants of easter basket toy packaging litter the dining room table. As I walk to my son’s room, I try to brainstorm what we will later eat for a celebratory meal. The few key ingredients I need for any dinner beyond basic burgers or tacos were missing from my recent grocery deliveries.

I kneel beside my son picking up his train track and scattered puzzle pieces. He helps me, but on his own he couldn’t manage the mess. It seems too overwhelming for him. With my guidance, he picks up piece by piece, toy by toy and places them in the proper bin or basket. 

God’s Sufficiency

In that moment, I see myself as the one trying and failing to clean up the messes. I’m too weary to manage the pieces of my existence at times. The ongoing physical messes but also the messes in my heart. Pride, idolatry, my hope often misplaced. God points me back to his truth. He takes me by the hand and he points out one discarded bit of truth, another scattered thought, and there, another attempt to clean up where I missed the mark. 

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

2 Corinthians 12:9 ESV

When I come to the end of myself, when my strength is zapped, I find what was there all along—God’s strength. He is the source that truly sustains me, even when I fail to give him credit.

When I come to the end of myself, when my strength is zapped, I find what was there all along—God’s strength. He is the source that truly sustains me, even when I fail to give him credit. Share on X

Buried under traditions, candy, and togetherness, the hope of the resurrection shines brighter today than ever before. The promise of eternal hope and eternal life offered through the gospel is all I need. In my weariness, I’m thankful beyond expression that when all else fades away he shows himself to be more than enough.

His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence

2 Peter 1:3 ESV