There’s something about reaching your limit that brings everything into focus. When you’re out of strength, out of answers, and maybe even out of prayers, that’s often when the truth of God’s grace finally lands—not as a vague concept, but as something deeply personal. I’ve come to learn (sometimes the hard way) that grace doesn’t always look like what we expect. It doesn’t always feel like a rescue. Sometimes, it feels like being held together by something invisible when everything around you is falling apart.
The Apostle Paul wrote something strange and, honestly, kind of frustrating—at least at first glance. In 2 Corinthians 12:9, he records God saying to him, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
It’s a beautiful verse. It’s also a hard one. Because it came after Paul begged—begged—for relief from what he called a “thorn in the flesh.” And the answer he got? Not healing. Not removal. Just grace.
When God Doesn’t Fix It
We don’t actually know what Paul’s “thorn” was. Scholars have debated it for centuries—was it physical pain, depression, opposition from others, guilt from his past? There’s no clear answer, and maybe that’s the point. It could be anything. It could be your illness. Your fear. That mistake you keep reliving. Whatever it is, Paul’s story suggests God may not always take it away.
And that’s hard to accept. We like solutions. We like closure. We want the bad thing to be over so we can get back to the good life. But Paul’s experience turns that on its head. He doesn’t say God removed the struggle—he says God met him in it. Grace, in Paul’s case, wasn’t the escape. It was the strength to keep going.
He even adds, “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me” (2 Corinthians 12:9, continued). That’s not the kind of thing you say lightly. Nobody wants to be weak. But Paul came to see weakness as the exact place where God’s strength shows up.
When You’ve Let God Down
Then there’s Peter. Loud, impulsive Peter. The guy who promised Jesus he would never fall away. You know the story—before the rooster crowed, Peter had denied Jesus three times. Not in private. Not accidentally. He swore he didn’t even know the man.
And yet, when Jesus rose from the dead, He didn’t go looking for a replacement disciple. He went looking for Peter.
In John 21, Jesus meets Peter on the beach. They eat breakfast. Then Jesus asks him three times, “Do you love Me?” It’s not subtle. He’s giving Peter a chance to come back from what he did—to be restored. Not just forgiven, but re-commissioned. Jesus tells him, “Feed My sheep.”
Grace doesn’t just clean up our mess. It calls us back into purpose. Peter went on to become one of the main leaders of the early church. That’s grace in action—not ignoring failure but redeeming it.
When You’ve Run Too Far
The story of the prodigal son in Luke 15 has been told so many times that it’s easy to miss how radical it is. A young man demands his inheritance early (which, let’s be honest, is like telling your dad you wish he were dead), leaves home, and wastes everything. He ends up feeding pigs—rock bottom in every sense. Eventually, he decides to go back home, hoping at best to be treated like a servant.
But the father? He sees his son from a distance and runs to him. That detail matters. The father didn’t wait for an apology. He didn’t make him grovel. He didn’t even let him finish his “I’m sorry” speech. He wrapped him in a robe, gave him a ring, and threw a party.
Grace doesn’t wait for you to clean yourself up. It meets you in the mud, lifts your chin, and reminds you who you are.
Strength That Doesn’t Look Like Strength
Here’s the thing about grace—it rarely shows up how we expect. It’s not always loud. It doesn’t always come with a breakthrough moment. Sometimes it looks like simply making it through the day. Sometimes it sounds like, “I’m still here.” It may be quiet, but it’s steady.
Grace shows up when you’re too tired to pray, too ashamed to speak, and too weak to try. It meets you there—not with condemnation, but with quiet, stubborn love. The kind that refuses to let go. The kind that reminds you your value isn’t based on how strong you are, but on the fact that God is.
Don’t Wait to Be Ready
If you’re holding back from God because you feel unworthy, here’s the uncomfortable truth: you’ll never be “ready.” Grace isn’t a reward for finally pulling yourself together. It’s the help you receive when you admit you can’t.
There’s a strange freedom in that. In knowing you don’t have to perform. You don’t have to impress God. He already knows you completely—and still offers you grace.
So come as you are. Come tired, come scared, come uncertain. Grace will meet you there.
His Grace Is Still Enough
This may not be the answer we always want. We want fixes, solutions, certainty. But what God offers us—grace—is more sustaining than any of those things. It won’t always make life easier, but it will make you stronger in the places you thought you were done.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.