"God never gives us more than we can bear."
I do not care to know a god that would toy with a person, just to find his tipping point.
On my walk this morning, I had to struggle to resist the urge to explain my friend's recent string of hardships. A part of me knows that there is no answer--no karmic nod, no cruel god, no if/then equation. But the desire for explanations seems to be human nature. We want there to be a logical sequence that adds up to this, in part, I suppose, so that we can manipulate our own future outcomes.
In my resistance of such certainty, a softening emerged. My eyes and ears took over as my mind began to quiet a bit. I watched three young grackles--their squawks as shocking as their name--frantically chase after their worn-out mother, her brood now brooding. At my feet, a half dozen worms, thick and languid, patiently swam the breadth of the rain-pooled sidewalk, seeking higher ground. Scattered in the dewy grass were hundreds of tiny maples, just a week ago crisp, brown helicopters whirring their way groundward. Most had landed under the protective limbs of their mother. Some, perhaps, would become mothers themselves one day.
Near the pool, I ran my hand along the fence and closed my eyes, listening to the rhythmic "gloph" of swimmers' feet, as they broke the surface of the water. Punctured by occasional laughs and the "hup" of a coach, it was a blissful collection of summer sounds.
A cloudburst released another round of rain, and I found myself listening to individual drops as they landed on maple leaves and hostas, each contact a distinct note.
By the time I walked by the tennis courts, I felt calm, bathed in the balm of the spirit that breathes through all things. It is a breath that I hope finds its way to my friend today.
Where, in the midst of Big Bad Things, do we find healing? The answer, for me, is just outside my door, where roots and wind, rain and sun bind us all together. And, when I fill up on these things, I am better able to sit with my friend in his darkness.
As a woman of faith if I do not believe that God toys with me to find my tipping point. I too, am bothered by the phrase you quoted as it is not scriptural. Nowhere in scripture does it say that God won’t give us more than we can bear. It does, however say that He will be with us, and give the grace we need to endure our burdens. He also says that when we endure our burdens it prepares us to help others who are going through similar circumstances. You are prepared to be a comfort because you know what comfort looks like from what what you have been through. I pray you will that comfort and strength for your friend. I don’t mean to be preachy. For me, I find great strength and refreshment in scripture. Sometimes I even read it outdoors. ��
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