Enough

There’s a question that follows most of us like a shadow: Am I enough? Not the kind of question you’d find printed on a coffee mug, but the sort that rises from the depths when we’re alone with Scripture and our souls are loud. It whispers in the spaces between our best efforts, even when we know what God’s word says. Even when we preach what God’s word says.

We are people anchored in Christ, yet restless as wind over water. We hunger for the Word to shape us like a potter’s hands, for the Spirit to steady us like a compass needle finding true north, and for our lives to mirror the simple gospel we proclaim. But there’s still this ancient voice that speaks from the shadows: “You must keep proving it. Keep working. Keep carrying the weight, or everything will crumble.”

Scripture tells us plainly that God loves His people. We know He loves them. We know He loves us. But sometimes we wonder: does He love us because we’re useful in His kingdom? Because we can serve? Because we produce fruit? That’s dangerous territory for any believer’s heart, and it misses what Jesus actually taught.

When Jesus called the twelve, He didn’t choose them for their credentials or their potential output. Matthew was a tax collector, despised by his own people. Peter was impulsive and would deny Christ three times. James and John wanted to call down fire on a Samaritan village. Jesus chose them and said simply, “Follow me” (Matthew 4.19 ESV). Not because they were enough, but because He was.

Many of us have spent years trying to live faithfully, to love well, to pour ourselves out like wine for others. Paul wrote to the Ephesians that we are “created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (Ephesians 2.10). But notice what comes before that verse: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast”(Ephesians 2.8-9).

The order matters. We don’t work to earn our place. We work from our place.

There’s a quiet sadness that creeps in when we reverse that order. A grief for the gap between who we want to be and who we still are. We give grace freely to others, but we struggle to receive it for ourselves. We’ve told others they’re loved by God apart from their performance, quoting Romans 5.8: “But God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” And yet here we are, still fighting the lie that we have to carry the weight or we’ll be exposed as inadequate.

But listen to what the Father says through His word. In Romans 8.15-16, Paul writes: “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” Not servants earning wages. Not workers proving worth. Children. Beloved children.

What if we actually believed that? What if we could let go of the need to prove, the compulsion to carry, the fear of being misunderstood? What if we could simply rest in being loved?

Jesus himself gives us the invitation: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11.28-30).

That’s what we need. Not just theological knowledge about rest, but the actual experience of laying down what was never ours to carry.

Maybe you’re there too, working, leading, loving, and still wondering deep down if you’re enough. Hear this from God’s own word: you are loved, not because you’ve earned it, but because “God is love” (1 John 4.8).

You don’t have to prove it anymore.

~PW 🌮🛶