The Unexpected Gift of Falling Apart
Photo By: Kaboompics.com Sad Woman Lying with Used Tissue Scattered on the Floor
I thought I was learning how to trust God. And in many ways, I was. But lately, I’ve realized He wasn’t just leading me into trust. He was inviting me into something lower.
Lowly.
The posture I didn’t know I needed, but the one my soul was starving for. It’s been like a slow unraveling of self-sufficiency, an undoing of everything I thought I had to hold together. It started with layers of pressure, financial strain, emotional weight. And then my son broke his leg. Just one unexpected accident, and suddenly the thin scaffolding I’d been standing on collapsed.
And it hit me: I’m not strong. I’ve never been strong. I’ve just been good at keeping it together.
Fake It Till You Break It
I didn’t realize how much I was still clinging to my own strength. I thought I’d laid it down and surrendered. But looking back, I can see the way I kept pushing through. The way I wore resilience like a badge.
But God isn’t impressed with composure. He’s not looking for high-functioning daughters who can fake peace under pressure. He’s after the lowly. The honest. The ones willing to say, “I can’t do this without You.” And He has His ways of helping us get there. Sometimes it’s a cracked routine. Sometimes it’s a parenting heartbreak, or exhaustion that no longer responds to caffeine and positivity.
Whatever it is, it’s mercy. Because eventually, we stop asking, “How can I fix this?” And we start whispering, “God… just be here with me in it.”
Blessed Are the Burnt Out
There’s something freeing about reaching the end of yourself. It’s disorienting at first, like you’ve failed somehow or you’re lazy. Like you should’ve been able to “rise up” or “declare victory” or “keep pushing forward” or whatever we’ve been conditioned to do when things fall apart. But Jesus said, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Not the strong in spirit. Not the put-together. Not the ones who always know what to do. The poor. The needy. The spiritually bankrupt who come empty-handed and unguarded.
And maybe… that’s the real strength. The kind that looks like true surrender.
One Phone Call Away
It only takes one moment to remind you how fragile life really is. My son’s broken leg did that for me. One unexpected fall and suddenly everything shifts—school, work, plans, energy. Just like that, everything feels heavier. Slower. More vulnerable.
But honestly, it’s not just the injury. It’s the deeper realization: We’re all one phone call away from heartbreak. One diagnosis. One disruption. We’re not as in control as we think we are.
And maybe that’s not meant to terrify us. Maybe it’s meant to humble us. We are dust, the Psalms say. A breath. A mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. And yet, even in our fragility, God knows us and calls us His.
Plot Twist: This Is Actually Progress
So maybe I’m not falling apart, but I’m being returned to complete surrender. To the kind of faith that doesn’t try to carry everything, because it knows it can’t.
I’m not trying to be strong anymore. And it’s strange how light begins to shine into places I thought would stay heavy. How peace doesn’t come from pushing forward, but from falling back into the arms of a God.
And if this is where you also are—low, tired, unsure—please hear me: Have hope. Maybe you’re just being stripped of everything that made you think you didn’t need God.
You don’t have to climb your way back up to God. He’s already come low enough to meet you here.
If you related to this reflection, you may also enjoy: The White Dog and the Expiration Date of Endurance
