Those Who Look to Him for Help

Those Who Look to Him for Help

“I just don’t think I should be this needy.” I knew the words weren’t supposed to be said, but they were whispered, late and quiet to my husband, through tears. I know that being dependent on the Lord is right and necessary and what we’re called to, but I also know that I should be able to do more, better, with grit and gumption, all by my lonesome. Nobody ever said it out loud, but I know the expectation, even if it only is birthed out of some dark corner of my mind.

But I read somewhere that Jesus was the most dependent man who ever lived, and I think, maybe I should be as well — dependent, even needy, if you will. Perhaps it’s a lie that I could ever even get it all together on my own, that I could wake up and joyfully greet the little people without Jesus, that I could serve my husband selflessly without Jesus, that I could make it to the end of the day with contentment without Jesus.



I read this verse recently, and I wrote it in my journal like this, just like this —

Psalm 34:5

Those who look to him for help
(This is something I struggle with — constant dependence and need. It’s a lie that the enemy whispers — that I shouldn’t be this weak, this dependent, that my one time with God or in the Word should be enough, that needing to go back again is proving my weakness.)

Will be radiant with joy. No shadow of shame will darken their faces.
(This proves the opposite of what I’ve believed — that my shame would increase with my need. Oh, God, help me learn this in the inner corners of my heart.)

Somehow, I allow this world and the enemy to tell me that I can find joy and peace within myself, that I should be able to get this inner strength on my own. Yet I keep coming up short, feeling the failure, and nothing, nothing has shown me this inadequacy like motherhood. Yet I forget that there is a God with a great well of grace for me. And I am learning, little by little, that looking to him for help, that constantly depending on his grace, it refreshes me. I am surprised, though I’ve been taught these truths, that I am not ashamed, that I am not condemned for being in need. Instead, I am met, every time, with the help (and more) that I needed. Grace, not shame. Joy, not frustration. This is the God who loves us.


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What If.

What If.