Weakness is Not Inability

I was on a run today, and I quit. I walked the last quarter of my planned route.

And like many of us, the internal dialogue started immediately. One thing you should know about me: I hate making mistakes. As an Enneagram 1, I’m driven by a deep desire for righteousness, which often twists itself into perfectionism. In a healthier expression, that desire makes me committed to integrity—wholeness, completeness, doing what I said I would do.

So when I don’t do what I said I would do, even something as small as a run, it’s challenging.

But over the years, especially with exercise, I’ve matured. I used to push myself mercilessly, determined to finish whatever I set out to do, even if it nearly killed me. So quitting today was actually a sign of grace and growth. I’m slowly learning to embrace weakness, accept my limitations, and rejoice in the capacity God has actually given me.

And as I walked home, I started thinking about the difference between weakness and inability.

Confusing Weakness With Inability

For much of my life, I conflated the two. If I wasn’t immediately good at something, or couldn’t excel quickly, I assumed it wasn’t worth trying. That mindset made me proficient at a few things, but it also kept me from the grace God gives through weakness.

I confused my weaknesses for inabilities, and that confusion cost me. It blinded me to the way Scripture describes weakness; not as disqualification, but as the very place where God delights to display His power (2 Cor. 12:9).

Weakness is not inability.

Weakness is capacity under strain. Inability is capacity removed.

When Weakness Becomes a Gift

When I injured my spine in 2023, my greatest fear wasn’t weakness. It was losing my ability to move, function, exercise, or enjoy life. I was terrified I might never ski again. I feared I might not run or lift or exert myself without putting my future mobility at risk.

Enter my physical therapist—really, my movement therapist—Morgan. She immediately began putting my body into stressful, strengthening situations. She knew I had a choice:

embrace weakness as an opportunity for growth,

or

succumb to weakness until it hardened into inability.

I’m forever grateful she guided me under the barbell again, pushed me, challenged me, and helped me see my weaknesses clearly and not mistake them for inabilities.

And looking back now on how God has restored so much since that fall, I’m filled with gratitude. My body is wasting away, as Paul says (2 Cor. 4:16). My spine still has issues. I still pray for healing. But I also recognize this affliction as one of the primary ways God is teaching me dependence.

Learning to Walk in Weakness

So quitting my run today (though it felt like failure in the moment!) is actually something I’m celebrating. God is forming me. He’s making me less driven by perfection and more driven by trust. He’s teaching me to listen to my body, honor my limits, and remember that His strength is made perfect in weakness.

And one day, very soon, I’ll run without limits.

I’ll jump without pain. I’ll ski without fear. I’ll rejoice without groaning.

Because in the new creation, I’ll be running straight into the arms of Jesus…fully whole, fully healed, and fully alive.

Weakness is not inability. Weakness is the place where God meets us.