Light peeked through the blinds and landed on the hospital recliner chair, waking me from a stiff-necked sleep. I turned my head to see my five-year-old son, curled up in a ball with monitors beeping steadily, feeling sure it would only be a few minutes before he sensed me and woke up. We had at least another day ahead of us in this specially sectioned-off unit—not allowed to leave the room or accept visitors. Nurses or doctors would only drop in on an as-needed basis. While I praised God that my son had been stable through the night, my prayers now shifted to the daytime. How would I entertain him in this sterile room for hours on end? How could I explain to him that we couldn’t leave or unhook his cords? I sat up, called for breakfast, and looked through my small bag of toys. This was going to be a long day.
My son has intellectual disability, is nonspeaking, and struggles with new environments and situations. After waking, he immediately reached through the crib and pointed to my lap, his haven of safety. It was evident from the face smacking and hair pulling (however affectionate) that he did not want to be in this room one minute longer, and thus the marathon began.
I rotated the few items I had—playing ball, pressing light-up buttons, flipping through board books. Seven minutes passed. We started to FaceTime any family member who was awake, but soon my phone battery drained to nothing. It’s not even 10:00 am! I plugged in my phone so we could watch Pete the Cat on repeat from an awkward angle in the recliner. It’s 10:09. I realized we were going to get through this day one minute at a time. Three hundred and sixty minutes passed before we were released and collapsed into the care of my husband. And during almost every single one of those minutes, I prayed: “Lord, help sustain us—give us endurance and patience for one more minute.”
Have there been moments or seasons in your life when you needed extraordinary endurance? When you weren’t sure how you’d make it one more minute? Your patience had run dry, resistance to temptation had worn thin, and your words of wisdom neared zero. I have rarely felt the need for endurance as acutely as I did in that hospital room, but I’ve experienced the feeling of being near empty many times. Having to stay up late, wake up early, or bottle energy to care for an aging or disabled family member can deplete you. Or perhaps you’re exhausted by managing the ongoing needs of a household and family. But often it’s in this struggle when the good stuff happens.
The author of Hebrews tells us that if we’re weary or fainthearted, we should consider Jesus and look to him for strength. Jesus is the perfect example of endurance because he experienced the strongest suffering without giving up—not because he was a glutton for punishment but because he trusted his
Father, even unto death. While we don’t have a detailed account of what was going through our Savior’s mind, perhaps his prayer in Gethsemane and the drops of blood that fell like sweat from his brow point to his minute-by-minute, second-by-second need for endurance as he was beaten, mocked, and hung to suffocate on the cross (Matthew 26:38-39). He received the bonds and the blows because of an iron-clad trust in his Father’s good plan (Hebrews 12:2-3). Jesus’s suffering didn’t get the last word, and his hope didn’t put him to shame. His Father made good on every promise—Jesus walked out of the tomb, ascended to heaven, and sits at the Father’s right hand.
In our suffering, when we feel weak and desperate for endurance, we are walking the path to hope in God. As your teenage child gets on your last nerve, as you drive one more day to a job you can’t stand, as you sit beside your ailing, unappreciative, aging parent, as you continue to share the gospel where it’s not yet received, you can endure because you have hope.
Hope says . . .
God is with me.
God will help me.
What I see is not all that’s happening.
This suffering will not last forever.
Just as surely as you know the sun will rise and gravity will keep you from floating off into space, know that your hope in God will not put you to shame. Our hope is as secure as our salvation because all of God’s promises hold true. He will do all that he says—as surely as he raised Jesus from the dead, he
will eventually bring you to his side. He is the firstfruits and we are the future harvest (1 Corinthians 15:20).
While you might feel desperately weak, needing minute-by-minute strength to endure what the Lord has given you to do, you are not alone. You are not unseen. You are not unequipped. Tell the Lord that you need his help to keep going and then watch with undeserved amazement as minute by minute he lifts your drooping hands and strengthens your weak knees (Job 4:4; Hebrews 12:12). This might be a long day, week, year, or decade, but God will see you through to the end one moment at a time.
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We all feel weak sometimes.
He Is Strong, by bestselling author Emily A. Jensen, encourages you to rest in God’s help and strength for every one of your inadequacies. Filled with devotionals containing honest stories about her own feelings of weakness, Emily will lead you back to the gospel for wisdom, hope, and comfort. As the familiar hymn says, “They are weak, but he is strong.”
Read more about He Is Strong here.
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