You look at that stretch of road, almost a mile, and what you feel in your legs seems to whisper that the distance is simply too great. You had to be carried through the hospital doors in a wheelchair, and now the thought of putting one foot in front of the other makes your heart sink. It is a hard moment, and the Lord knows it.
But here is something to hold close: the strength that comes from us, the strength of our own limbs and lungs, is a cistern that runs dry. It is measurable, and it always has an end. But the strength that comes from God is a fountain fed by springs that never fail. He does not grow weary. He does not lose power. And when His children have no might left in themselves, He delights to be their supply.
So you are not walking that road with only your own legs beneath you. The Lord who made those legs is with you, and He has a way of carrying souls even when their bodies tremble. You may feel that you cannot make it, but remember that His grace knows how to work gently, quietly, and yet with all power. He does not despise the weak, He draws near to them. He does not break the bruised reed or snuff out the smoking flax. When you have no strength to draw from, you are in the very place where He loves to pour His own strength in.
Think of a father walking with his small child through a dark lane. The little one stumbles, his legs are tired, and he begins to cry that he cannot go on. The father does not scold, he stoops down, takes the child’s hand, and says, “Lean on me. We will do this together.” And somehow, with that strong hand to hold, the child finds fresh courage and a new supply of energy he did not know he had. Your Father is holding you now. You may not feel it, but He is there, and He will not let you fall.
Do not be afraid of your own emptiness. Our Lord Jesus Christ was made perfect as a Savior through the things He suffered, and He knows what it is to be weary and pressed down. He walked the dusty roads of Galilee until He was so tired He sat down by a well. He is no stranger to bodily exhaustion. And because He knows, He is willing to help. He is not a high priest who cannot be touched with the feeling of your weakness. Cast yourself on Him.
And as you put one foot in front of the other, let His Word be your companion. It is a living book, a speaking book. You may not have the strength to read it now, but a verse can drop into your mind like a soft word from a friend: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Let that talk with you as you go. It will be better than a staff.
Lord Jesus, we come to You now because there is no other help. Look on Your child whose body is spent and whose heart is heavy. Give strength to these legs, step by step, moment by moment, renew what is failing. Let them feel Your upholding hand, even when every feeling says they cannot go on. Quiet the anxious heart with Your peace. You who fed the poor and needy, who became the bread of life for empty souls, be the very strength of their frame now. And when the road is finished, let them look back and say, “I made it, but not by my own might, the Lord carried me.” We ask this in Your precious name, O Jesus, our helper and our portion. Amen.