1When You Despise Your WeaknessHebrews 4:15I’m going to take a long shot here and assume that you, the one holding this book in your hands, are a living, breathing human. I may not know much else about you, but I do know this: You are not a random blob of atoms thrown together by chance. You have a heart that pumps with precision, lungs that rise and fall with each breath, emotions that ebb and flow, a mind that thinks, and a face that resembles some others but is entirely unique.
You and I are profoundly complex—body, mind, and soul—intricate beyond what the brightest minds can comprehend. And yet, whether or not we like to admit it, we’re also painfully limited and dependent beings. Without air, we cease breathing. Without precise electrical pulses, our hearts stop beating. Without proper immune systems, microscopic germs wreak havoc. We’re vulnerable to the world around us and at war with the passions within us. Our earthly frames are carefully and intentionally designed yet fragile to the core—exposed and battered by the elements of a sin-ravaged world and fractured by weakness, sin, and suffering.
The irony is, we invest endless resources trying to convince ourselves we’re something we’re not. We strive to delay aging and the dreaded reality that death will one day knock on our door. We equate self-sufficiency with a life well lived. And we spend our whole lives searching for meaning and striving for what’s lasting, while running from the very One who holds both in his hands.
It’s exhausting, isn’t it?
Like a hamster on a wheel, we run ourselves ragged, avoiding anything that reminds us of how temporal and not in control we really are.
Weakness Isn’t Our EnemyI imagine you’ve arrived at this section on weakness with one of two perspectives. Maybe you feel your limitations acutely because of physical challenges or other heavy circumstances that have sucked your capacity dry. You’re reminded of your weaknesses around every corner.
Or maybe you feel pretty good about life right now, confident in who you are and what you’ve accomplished. You may not feel particularly weak, but you have a chronic, low-grade fear that you’re one mistake or calamity away from losing everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.
Whether you’re plagued with weakness or running from it, eventually you’ll have to face your humanity head-on.
Eventually, we all wonder, Where did I go wrong? Why can’t I get it together? If you’re a Christian, you’re faced with even deeper questions: If God truly loves me, why does he allow me to struggle in the first place? Is he patient toward my limitations, or is he annoyed by my weaknesses and failings?
Thankfully, we don’t have to wonder.
Forced to Dig DeeperSeveral years ago, trials came like unrelenting waves. Chronic illness knocked me down every day, and on top of that, disappointment and struggle kept crashing on my family. First, my husband lost his job, draining our finances as the needs multiplied. To make matters worse, our young son’s neurodiverse challenges worsened by the day, and in my weariness, I pleaded with God to show me his favor and compassion. I was desperate for reassurance that he truly cared about me and what our family was walking through. But what followed was not the answer I was hoping for.
Not long after we’d taken our son to a long-awaited specialist whom we’d been referred to, we learned this medical practice was impersonating the actual specialist we thought we were seeing. They had duped dozens of desperate families like ours in the process. By the time the truth came to light, we were out thousands of dollars and could no longer afford to see the real specialist. It hit like a gut punch, and in all honesty, God didn’t just feel absent—he felt cruel.
As I scoured the Scriptures, desperate for a lifeline to keep my head above the waves, simplistic Christian slogans that once made sense now seemed to taunt me: Just have faith and trust that it will all work out. God won’t give you more than you can handle. There’s a good purpose to all this.
Even true statements like “God is good” are easy to believe when circumstances match our idea of goodness. But what do we do when life falls apart and disrupts what once made sense?
We’re forced to dig deeper.
The moment we’re tempted to pull back from Jesus is the very moment we must lean in. Because if we look closely at the life of Christ, we’ll encounter the very nature and character of God. Not only are we sinners who need a Savior; we’re also sufferers who need a Comforter and Redeemer.
There are times, however, we may know this in our heads, but for some reason, it hits a brick wall at the heart level. Usually, it’s when we find ourselves at a crossroads between knowing the truth about God and staking our entire life on it. This point often comes when life unravels and our perception of God is shaken to the core.
For example, until our faith is tested, we’re more likely to rest our confidence on simplistic interpretations of God’s promises in passages like Matthew 7:9–11: “Which of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” (NIV).
I don’t know about you, but my interpretation of “bread and fish” usually corresponds to what seems good to me at the moment. Therefore, when God acts outside the bounds of those perceptions, it feels like he’s giving me a stone or a snake.
If you find yourself at that crossroads right now, you’re in good company. The pages of this book stem from a deeply rooted desire to grasp how God is both powerful and personal—how he’s really for us. And there’s no greater way to see the heart of God than to see it lived out through the life of Jesus.
Why Jesus’s Humanity and Deity Both MatterThink about a past or present difficulty in your life. When it comes to suffering or disappointment, how do you and I tend to respond? Naturally, we want out. We avoid it at all costs or push it to our mental back burner—believing the path around pain and weakness is what’s best for us.
Now consider Jesus. Unlike us, he willingly left the comforts and glories of heaven and became human. He did this fully aware of the suffering he would endure on our behalf. It defies logic: Why would a loving Father send his Son into a harsh world to save those who hate him? It sounds a lot like a father giving his son a stone or a snake.
Yes, God could have left us to ourselves—to the consequences of our own rebellious hearts and the pain that comes from living in a fallen world. But he didn’t. He is Immanuel, God with us. His love took on human form in Jesus.
Here’s what’s striking to me: Jesus could have descended to earth as a thirty-year-old man, begun his three years of ministry, and died on the cross as the sacrifice for our sins. But he didn’t. Instead, he came into the world as we all do, dependent on earthly parents, enduring the full limitations and pain of humanity. He willingly chose this path. Why?
Because Jesus needed to experience the full extent of our humanity in order to redeem it.
Therefore, we must hold Jesus’s humanity and deity carefully together. If we lose sight of his deity, we reduce him to a sympathetic man who is powerless to save. If we lose sight of his humanity, we have a God who can save but who lacks firsthand experience of the realities of this fallen world.
So it’s the profound truth of both Jesus’s humanity and his deity that gives us both eternal and present hope. He isn’t distant, uncaring, or out of touch. He feels what we feel. He knows the full extent of the human experience—even to the point of death. He knows the full scale of suffering this world brings.
And yet Jesus doesn’t stop at forgiving our sins and comforting our sorrows. He draws near. He gives us his Holy Spirit, not only to strengthen and comfort us in our humanity . . . but also to redeem it.
Copyright © 2026 by Kristen Wetherell. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
