Breaking News: I Am in Fact, Not Fine

If you had asked me what I’ve been wrestling with lately, I probably would have said anger. Or disappointment. Maybe patience. Those have been the obvious ones.

Instead, God quietly put His finger on something that has been hiding underneath all of it.

My relationship with people.

More specifically, my inability to let them carry me.

I’ve become really good at convincing myself that I don’t need anyone.

Not in an arrogant way. At least I don’t think so.

More in a survival way.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“It’s easier if I don’t depend on anyone.”

“I’ve got Jesus. That’s enough.”

The scary part is that none of those statements sound spiritually wrong at first.

Until you start reading Scripture.

In Mark 2:1–5, four friends carry a paralyzed man to Jesus. They can’t get through the crowd, so they climb onto the roof, tear it open, and lower him down anyway. Jesus doesn’t just notice the man.

The text says, “When Jesus saw their faith…”

Their faith.

Not just his.

That stopped me this morning.

Jesus literally saw faith through initiative.

Faith wasn’t simply what they believed. It was what they did.

They refused to quit when the door didn’t open.

They found another way.

I started wondering how many times I’ve mistaken passivity for trust.

I’ve prayed prayers that sounded faithful while quietly refusing to take initiative.

Grace is opposed to earning.

It is not opposed to effort.

There is a difference.

Proverbs 14:23 says, “In all labor there is profit.”

Not because our work earns God’s love.

It doesn’t.

It simply means God often meets us while we’re moving.

Lately, though, movement has been hard.

Pain has a funny way of doing that.

Pain doesn’t just make you hurt.

It can make you passive.

It can make you pensive.

Being pensive isn’t necessarily bad. It means you’re deeply thoughtful, reflective, constantly turning things over in your mind. Reflection has its place. God often meets us there.

The problem is when reflection becomes hesitation.

When every possibility gets analyzed to death.

When every conversation is rehearsed before it happens.

When fear disguises itself as wisdom.

Pain has a way of convincing you that standing still is safer than taking another step.

If you’ve been dropped enough times, eventually you stop asking people to carry you.

Not because you’re healed.

Because you’ve adapted.

I know that feeling better than I’d like to admit.

Hyper independence has become one of my favorite defense mechanisms.

I tell myself it’s strength.

Sometimes it’s fear wearing a really convincing outfit.

The truth is, this works while my feet still work.

As long as I’m emotionally okay enough to keep walking.

As long as I can keep producing.

As long as I can keep showing up.

As long as I can keep carrying myself.

But what happens when my feet stop working?

Maybe not physically.

Maybe emotionally.

Spiritually.

Mentally.

What happens when I become the person on the mat?

Because if we’re honest, every one of us eventually becomes the person on the mat.

The Kingdom has never been built around isolated people.

From the very beginning God said, “Let us make mankind in our image…” (Genesis 1:26).

Ecclesiastes 4:9–12 reminds us that two are better than one and that “a threefold cord is not quickly broken.”

Jesus said in Matthew 18:19–20 that where two or three gather in His name, He is there among them.

Walking like Jesus means refusing to walk alone.

There is an anointing on interdependence.

Culture celebrates independence.

The Kingdom celebrates partnership.

That doesn’t mean everyone gets unlimited access to your life. Amos 3:3 reminds us that agreement matters. Discernment always comes before alignment.

Not everyone is supposed to carry you.

Not everyone should.

But someone should.

Here’s where God confronted me.

When I finally do open up…

When I finally become vulnerable…

When I finally tell someone I’m struggling…

…and they don’t check in.

Or they disappear.

Or life gets busy.

Or they don’t show up the way I hoped they would.

I quietly smile to myself.

“See?”

“I knew it.”

“I shouldn’t have expected anything.”

“I’ll just do it myself.”

It feels like confirmation.

Like evidence.

Like my case has been proven.

Except God interrupted that thinking this morning.

He showed me that I wasn’t proving people were unreliable.

I was revealing that my faith was quietly resting in people’s consistency instead of His sovereignty.

That one hurt.

I’ve been measuring God’s faithfulness by people’s follow through.

Those aren’t the same thing.

Someone else’s absence does not cancel God’s provision.

Someone else’s inconsistency does not mean Heaven forgot my address.

If one carrier drops the mat…

God is fully capable of sending another.

Or another four.

Sometimes He doesn’t have to send someone immediately.

Sometimes He simply needs to show me that He’s still working while I can’t see it.

Real faith isn’t measured when everything is working.

Real faith is revealed by how I respond when it looks like nothing is.

When the door won’t open.

Do I quit?

Or do I climb onto the roof?

Those four men refused to let an obstacle become their conclusion.

That’s faith.

Not because everything worked immediately.

Because they kept moving when it wasn’t.

I’ve realized I’ve spent a lot of time praying for things.

Provision.

Opportunities.

Open doors.

Blessings.

None of those prayers are wrong.

But maybe I’ve underestimated the gift of people.

People who pray.

People who carry me when I can’t carry myself.

People are one of God’s greatest provisions.

The enemy would love nothing more than to assassinate our initiative through fear. Fear whispers, “What if it doesn’t work?” It keeps us replaying every past disappointment until we convince ourselves that trying again isn’t worth it.

Faith asks a different question.

“What if God is already making a way?”

So today, I’m choosing something different.

I’m choosing initiative over hesitation.

Expectation over cynicism.

Faith over self protection.

I’m choosing to believe that just because I’ve been dropped before doesn’t mean I’ll always be dropped.

I’m choosing to believe that God knows exactly who my carriers are, even if I haven’t met all of them yet.

I’m choosing to stop treating every disappointment as prophecy over my future.

Most of all, I’m choosing to believe that God’s favor has not passed me by.

I’m going to walk expecting Him to reveal the right people at the right time.

The people who don’t just applaud from the crowd, but climb onto the roof with me.

The people who help carry what has become too heavy.

The people He has already ordained before I ever knew I would need them.

Not because my faith is in people.

Because my faith is in the God who sends them.

& I have a feeling He’s already on His way.