strength through surrender
the power of saying “I need help'“
Sometimes, I think we forget that we aren’t meant to have it all together.
In a culture that equates success with independence and a visibly empowered self, the idea of humbling ourselves can seem rather foreign. In a world that screams at us to “do more,” “try harder,” and “be stronger,” the idea of slowing down, admitting our limits, and asking for help can feel backward—if not foolish. And yet, that’s exactly what Jesus asks of us.
1 Peter 5:6-7 says: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that he might exalt you in due time, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.”
And in 2 Corinthians 12:9, Paul writes: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
There’s a tension here that we often don’t like to sit in. Boasting in our weakness? Weakness isn’t exactly something we naturally celebrate. Dependence doesn’t feel empowering. Saying “I need help” can feel like failure—as if we’ve somehow fallen short of who we’re supposed to be. But what if we’ve misunderstood strength all along? What if the very thing we’ve been trying to avoid—our weakness—is actually the gateway to experiencing God’s power?
Pride has a subtle way of disguising itself as strength. It tells us that we should be able to handle things on our own. That asking for help is a sign of weakness. That needing others is something to outgrow, not embrace. It sounds like confidence, but underneath, it’s often fear—fear of being seen as inadequate, fear of losing control, fear of vulnerability. So we push through. We strive harder. We carry burdens we were never meant to carry. And in doing so, we miss the very grace that God is offering us.
Notice that God says: “My grace is sufficient for you.” Not your strength is sufficient. Not your effort is sufficient. Not your ability to hold it all together is sufficient. No, it’s His grace. I wonder what would happen if we, like Paul, started boasting in our weakness? Not because weakness is good in itself, but because it’s the conduit to experiencing a great display of God’s power. I wonder what would happen if we stopped pretending—if we laid down the exhausting need to appear strong and instead came honestly before God and others ,and said, “I can’t do this on my own.”
Could it be that we would experience the freedom our soul longs for? Could it be that we would begin to actually experience His strength in a way we never have before—steady, sustaining, and enough for every moment? The world will keep trying to tell us that asking for help is a sign of weakness. But that’s a lie: it’s a form of surrender. And surrender, in the kingdom of God, is not weakness—it’s actually the pathway to true strength.
Surrender, in the kingdom of God, is not weakness—it’s actually the pathway to true strength.
When we admit our need, we make room for God to move. When we acknowledge our limitations, we open ourselves to His limitless power. When we let go of control, we place ourselves in the hands of the One who holds all things together. The truth is, we were never meant to be strong on our own. We were never meant to be on our own, period. The idea of an “independent” self is an illusion. God created us for dependency on Him, and for interdependence with others. As an older Christian woman I recently interviewed said, “From the time we’re a little child, we’re taught to do things independently. So, therefore, we grow up to be adults and we still want to be independent—but of the Person we need most.”
May we rest today in this profound truth: God is not asking us to hold it together. He’s asking us to let Him hold us. And in the hands of a gracious God, even our weakest moments become places of profound strength.
Reflection question: Where has pride disguised itself as strength in your life? Maybe it’s in the way you resist asking for help. Maybe it’s in the pressure you put on yourself to always be “okay.” Maybe it’s in the quiet belief that you should be able to handle your struggles on your own. Whatever it looks like, God is gently inviting you into something better. Not a life of striving, but a life of abiding. Not a life of self-sufficiency, but one of God-dependence.
