Pareto’s Rule, or the 80/20 principle, states that 80 percent of the consequences come from 20 percent of the causes. Over the years, I’ve heard this applied to the church: 20 percent of Christians do 80 percent of the giving and work of the church. If Pareto is right, and experience is any indication, a minority of professing believers participate in the life of the church, including outside of the four walls of our church buildings. That’s why on many occasions I find myself saying aloud, “I wish I could clone five of me.” There is simply not enough of me to go around to lend a hand in the myriad of ways I desire to—not enough of me to overcome the abundance of evil with good in all the ways I want to do so (Romans 12:21). At times, I am simply overwhelmed by the amount of evil I see in the world and within the church—and the endless needs.
The reality is that we’re all limited by time and in energy, and sometimes those limitations frustrate us to our core. I easily identify with the truth of Jesus’ words to Peter, James, and John in the garden of Gethsemane: “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41). Perhaps you know the feeling well too. When I examine the details of my life, I note responsibilities to my own family, extended family, parents who are sick, my local church, local neighbors, and care of creation. Currently, I have a commitment to my studies and the students I teach. I also have commitments to the global church. My husband and I give what we can to our global neighbors with fewer resources. And yet, none of it ever seems to be enough. Our lists of actual commitments, never mind those things that fall in the column of “I should,” run long and deep. There often isn’t time, money, or other resources to feel like we are doing enough.
But on further reflection over the conundrum of my humanity, I remember wisdom demands that I accept my limitations, boundaries, station, and season in life. This doesn’t mean that I refuse to try new things, submit to abusive or toxic situations, or refuse to move forward. But it does mean that I accept that I have no cape. There is no “S” emblazoned on lycra. I’m not a superhero or a super human. There is only so much I can do and be at any given time. Acts 17:26 tells us that God appointed our time in history—the time in which we would live and the boundaries of nations. Each one of us is bound by time and space, by our humanity. My inability to know, be, and do everything I want to come as no surprise to God. And when I try to do more than humanly possible, I make myself and those around me miserable. I flirt with disappointment and destruction.
In accepting my limitations and boundaries, I am accepting my humanity and God’s wisdom. I must trust that God is in control when it seems like all hell has broken loose. I have to remember that we have an enemy, the devil, and his demons, that prowl around looking to devour whomever they can and who desire to thwart God and His kingdom (1 Peter 5:8). I am not God; I do not have the ability or wisdom to make all wrongs, right. However, I am part of the body of Christ where each of us has gifts to use and roles to fill—thereby overcoming evil with good. I am to rely on others and pray that others do what they are called to do. I am to remember that even now, God is making all things new (Revelation 21:5).
Another bit of wisdom I return to repeatedly and that comforts me in these overwhelming moments comes from J.R.R. Tolkien’s book The Return of the King: “It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.” Riffing off Tolkien’s biblical wisdom, I remind myself again and again: I cannot master all things, but I must do what I can in the times and places in which I find myself. I can only attempt to uproot the evil in my fields—my spheres of influence. I cannot predict future circumstances. It is enough that I do what is given me with the energy and health that I have—no more, no less.
In Romans 1:17, Paul tells us that the just, or the righteous, live by faith. Thus, I am to walk in faith believing that if I am faithful to what I have been called to do, it is enough. God does not expect me to do more than what’s humanly possible, only what I can do. These are truths I repeat to myself over and over when I am overwhelmed by the evil and injustices in the world. This is how I walk by faith. In your overwhelming moments, may you too find comfort in these truths.
—Written by Marlena Graves. Used by permission from the author.
