More Than We Imagine
We tend to measure our lives by what we think we're capable of. Our ceilings become our limits. Our failures become the end of the story.
When I was first learning to live from God's strength instead of my own, He had a tender way of marking each chapter of my journey. On my morning runs, He would leave little gifts—visual reminders of what He was teaching me.
A small, smooth stone appeared during the chapter He called "Be Still"—a reminder of His power to conquer giants. A jagged rock showed up in the "Be Obedient" season, representing the fear and bitterness I was finally letting Him take from my soul. Then came a rock with a heart clearly etched on its surface during "Be Loved"—a tangible reminder that I was pursued by His affection.
So when we entered the "Be Strong" chapter, I was excited to find what I expected would be a big rock, something impressive that matched my human understanding of strength.
But one morning, God called my attention to something entirely different: a soft pile of feathers from a bird that had lost a fight. They were dove feathers, delicate and scattered.
I argued at first, confused about what feathers had to do with being strong. This didn't match my expectations at all. Where was the granite boulder? Where was the symbol of power and might?
It was then that the Father pointed my attention to Psalm 91, and I heard His Spirit whisper: "We've come too far for you to move forward from here in your own strength. It's time for you to learn to rely on Mine."
Suddenly, the feathers made perfect sense. The dove represents the Holy Spirit—the same Spirit that descended on Jesus, the same Spirit that raised Him from the dead, the same Spirit that lives in us. True strength isn't found in our own capacity but in surrendering to His power working through us.
What if the ceiling of our capacity is only the floor of God's throne room? What if our limitations are not the boundaries of what's possible, but the very places His power begins?
The world doesn't need what I can offer in my own strength. It needs Christ in me. His love is stronger than fear. Stronger than the hate burning in the world. Stronger even than the self-righteousness we sometimes hide behind as believers.
We are not performers on a stage trying to earn applause. We are lovers on assignment, carrying a love that is supernatural, eternal, and more than enough. Strength is not about looking impressive. It's about opening the door wider to the Kingdom light and letting Love be what people experience with us.
The dove feathers taught me that real strength looks like yielding to His Spirit, not proving my own power. It looks like gentleness that can't be shaken, peace that doesn't depend on circumstances, and love that flows from an inexhaustible source.
A reflection for today: Where are you still trying to be "strong" in your own capacity rather than relying on His Spirit? What would it mean to see your limitations as invitations for His power to begin?
A prayer for today: Spirit, open my eyes to see more of Your story than my fears allow. When I am tempted to measure my life by my own strength, remind me of the dove feathers—that true power comes from yielding to You. Help me be a lover on assignment, carrying Your supernatural strength into a world that needs Your light. Amen.
This 40-day series grows out of our partnership with Mercy Gate Ministries in Kerrville. We've been walking alongside families in restoration from the inside out—work that was interrupted by July's flood. If God is stirring your heart to support this ongoing ministry, you can learn more at John15Academy.com/kerrville. Hill Country friends, you are our honored guests in this space—simply receive and share as you feel led.
If today's reflection made space for your heart to breathe, you can invite someone else into this 40-day journey by forwarding this post or pointing them to Rooted in Kerrville. They can still join us.
If you're new here, you're welcome to subscribe so each reflection finds your inbox. There's no cost—just space to breathe, reflect, and remember you're not alone.
Together, there is great hope.