It is Too Much, Lord

“You are asking too much, Lord.”

That’s been the thought running through my mind these past weeks. If you happen across me in my garden or out in our woods, you might even hear me saying that out loud. Maybe even yelling it. “It’s too much. I can’t do this. I am not enough. I am too weak. You thought wrong, God.”

For many years I’ve been writing about wrestling with the Lord. Just go back a bit to that cancer diagnosis and you’ll find yourself knee-deep in the wrestling-words of this woman.

But now. Even more so. 

“You are asking too much of me, Lord.”

I cannot do this thing. 

I cannot walk this road. 

I cannot carry this load. 

I feel myself bent over even when walking upright. My posture almost one of protection. Because sometimes the wave of grief hits so hard I am brought to my knees. Left breathless. Broken. Bleeding tears. It comes without warning. I cannot always predict or plan for it. Maybe it's a memory or a thing in our home, maybe it’s an item on a grocery store shelf or a song or a word. But it keeps coming for me. I’m a clear target for this tidal wave of unrelenting sorrow.

I’ve been told that will subside some, someday. I’ve had the stages of grief explained to me forwards and backwards. I know the things. The answers. What the experts say. But right now none of that helps much. Because, right now, this is too much. Every day waking with he realization my husband is gone and I must continue on. My children must continue on without their dad. Not for awhile, but forever while on earth. I am grieving not just for myself but for my precious ones who miss their dad so much and need him so desperately. Each of their wounds compounding my own. Digging the sadness even deeper somedays. How can it not? I am their mother and I cannot not but feel their pain. It, too, is too much. 

This week we begin the process of selling our home. It is more than I can manage moving forward. Though I am trying to busy myself with cleaning out closets and touching up paint, I am unable to fully comprehend what leaving our home will look like for us. For me. It has been my canvas, my retreat, and my beloved sanctuary these past many years. Every corner curated in love. It will be another loss added to the list.

It is too much. 

The immediate decisions and details and to-do lists of death, too much. 

The sadness and sorrow and slayed-open feelings of loss, too much. 

And yet, dear ones, Jesus. Jesus.

Somehow—even in this—He is here. Closer to me than ever before. Sometimes it is as if He is breathing for me. Everyday I find myself in His Word and it is truly eating the Bread of Life. “My soul melts away for sorrow, strengthen me with your Word.” Psalm 119:28 Sometimes it is something I stumble upon and sometimes it is something someone sends to me. 

This week an old friend from Minnesota who I haven’t seen or hardly spoken to in many years reminded me of Judges 6 when God called Gideon to the prodigious task of saving Israel from the Midianites and Gideon’s answer back to God was, “How can I? I am the weakest … and the least.”  

Actually, I love the NIV wording of Gideon’s questions: “Pardon me, my lord, but how can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family.” He uses the phrase “pardon me, my lord” two different times in their conversation. Can’t you just hear his hesitation? His disbelief? His utter disapproval of this thing he’s been tasked with? “Umm, sorry, God. Pardon me, but I think you’ve got it wrong this time. You are asking too much of someone too weak.”

He even earlier dares to ask the hard question, “Pardon me, my lord, but if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us?”

I have to tell you, I understand what Gideon is asking.

It's a valid question. But hear God’s answer:

“Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?” 

That second part. That rhetorical question God poses: “Am I not sending you?”

Turn it around and read it again--I AM sending you.

God is sending. 

I AM is sending. 

My weak and my least is nothing for my God. It isn’t about me and my strength. It never was. It never will be. Even at my very strongest point in life, my own strength was never enough. Even if I was running marathons instead of battling stage four cancer, I wouldn’t be able to do on my own what it is God is calling me into. Not for one minute. 

So here I am in my weakest and least condition and He says to me “Am I not sending you, Jody?” 

As always, it isn’t going to be about Jody and her gifting, it’s going to be about Jesus and His grace. 

It isn’t about Jody and her strength, but about His strength in her. And because she has absolutely none of her own, Jesus will be seen. Jesus will be glorified. Jesus will be lifted high.

I don’t have to do this thing.

I don’t have to walk this road.

I don’t have to carry this load.

Not alone I don’t. 


He will do the walking and the carrying because it is HE who is doing the sending. 

Just like God reminded Gideon, “I am with you and you will do this ….”  Judges 6:16

You will do this, because I am with you. 

“He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.” Isaiah 40:29

“I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18:1-2

My strength. My rock. My fortress. My deliverer. My refuge. My shield. My salvation. My stronghold.

That was Gideon’s God. That is my God. 

Yes, even in this.

Maybe you find yourself also in a position of “too much.”  Asked to carry something too big? Too hard? Too heavy? Too impossible?

These words in Judges 6 aren’t only for me, friend. They are for you as well in your too much. They are. Take out Gideon’s name or Jody’s name and place your own right there in the middle of that conversation with God and ask Him to show you His strength. He will do it. He wants to do it. He longs to do it for you. Stop fighting Him and start falling into Him. It is HIS strength, not your own. Whatever the road, whatever the task, whatever the load you carry. Lay it down before His cross and He will carry it for you as He has carried His cross for you and for me. And, in it, you will find yourself carried. 

And even when the tidal wave of sorrow comes crashing over you, there's a ROCK to which you cling. 

And even when the winds toss you to and fro, there's an ANCHOR for your soul. 

And even when the fiery darts take aim, there's a SHIELD around you.

And even when the world is crumbling at your feet, there's a FORTRESS around you.

And even when the night is dark, there's a LIGHT which will always shine brighter.

"Even the darkness is not dark to you; this night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light WITH YOU."  Psalm 139:12

Even when. Even if. Even now. Even this. "Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may have her young --- a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God." ~ Psalm 84:3