Limits as Invitation
Written by Hannah Evans, Fellows Class of 2026
“What am I doing?”
This is the question I asked myself 2 months into Fellows while standing in Trader Joes staring down a carton of strawberries. It was nearing the end of a very long day and I had already grown quite weary and anxious from the racing thoughts about all of the things I had to do. I had spent the last 5 minutes staring at this carton of strawberries because I was trying to remember if it was cheaper at Aldi. I finally realized that even if it is cheaper at Aldi, the difference is likely only 10 cents and it’s not worth my time and stress debating over. It seemed so silly after I snapped out of it, but I was so intent on trying to shop wisely and get the best deal that I could. Money doesn’t grow on trees, you know.
Despite what I’d like to believe, this isn’t a new scenario for me. I find myself constantly overwhelmed. I have come to know myself as a chronic doer, because no matter how much I try to create margin in my life, it never seems to stay that way for long. I even picked “sabbath” as my word of the year for 2026 in an attempt to combat this, but so far, I’ve been as busy as I’ve always been. On the surface, being very involved and ambitious can seem like a good thing – it often leads to what our culture views as a successful life. And in many ways, it can be a good thing. For me, it often comes from excitement about life: all the activities to get involved in, people to meet, skills to learn, and experiences and adventures to have. And I think the Lord delights in that.
But I am learning that we were never made to do it all.
I grew up, as I believe many in America have, thinking that more choices equal more freedom. With technology, we now have more options than ever before – more opportunities, more information, more ways to connect, and more causes to care about. That is a gift in many ways. But it has also created new pressures. When everything feels possible, everything starts to feel like our responsibility.
When I hear “as humans we have limits”, it sounds like a problem I need to solve. I’m often rearranging my schedule and strategizing about how to save time so I can squeeze everything in.
But even Jesus, fully human, lived with limits. He experienced exhaustion and withdrew to quiet places to rest. He did not travel to every city at once or heal every person in a single moment. Instead, He moved faithfully from place to place, trusting the Father with the work that remained undone.
In college, I began to come to terms with the fact that I am human, and that means I can’t do everything. That realization helped to relieve some of the pressure, but it also left me feeling disappointed. I still saw limits as opportunities that I was missing out on.
During Fellows, I have begun to wonder if I don’t see limits the way God does. Maybe limits are not burdens to overcome, but gifts to receive.
There are so many needs, so many injustices, and so many worthy causes in the world. But God has created us with limits for a reason. He could have created us to be in multiple places at once, but He didn’t. We can only be in one place at one time. That limitation forces us to be present and choose what matters most to us and invest deeply rather than spreading ourselves thin.
In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” He is reminding us that limits are not signs of failure. We are not meant to be God, and there is a beauty when we recognize our limits and trust that the all-powerful God will work through both the things we are able to do and the things we are unable to do.
I am slowly learning that God speaks to us through our limits. They are not interruptions to our lives – they are invitations. Invitations to trust Him, to be present where we are, and to know Him more deeply.
