Qualified by Grace

“Not that we are competent in ourselves to claim anything for ourselves, but our competence comes from God.” — 2 Corinthians 3:5 (NIV)

Do you ever feel like the weight of your dream is crushing the confidence that got you there?

Truth is, you’re not crazy. You’re called.

Yes, you’re qualified. Not by your resumé. Not by the smooth parts of the journey.

You’re qualified by grace. Grace doesn’t bypass struggle, it shows up in it. 

I thought undergrad would prepare me. I thought loving law would be enough. But law school has cracked me wide open, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Birthing premature twins didn’t break me the way these hornbooks and cases have. But you know what?

Jesus never said it would be easy. He said it would stretch me. He said He’d be there in it.

That reminder has become my lifeline. When I’m drowning in outlines and doctrine, His presence becomes my precedent. When I feel under-qualified, I remember that God doesn’t call the confident, He calls the surrendered.

They don’t tell you that purpose bleeds. They don’t mention that calling can crush you before it crowns you.

I stepped into law school late, after babies and bedtime prayers. I felt triumphant, like my yes finally met its assignment. Suddenly, it didn’t feel like destiny. It felt like drowning. It felt like waking up brilliant and still failing to shine. Maybe you know that feeling. The moment when your passion doesn’t protect you from pressure.

Undergrad? A breeze. Law school? A battlefield.

I was warned, but I wasn’t ready, because no one can brace you for the war behind the work.

The divine contradiction is this, the struggle isn’t the proof you’re failing. It’s the proof you’re becoming. Jesus doesn’t call us into comfort. He calls us into crucibles. The fire isn’t punishment, it’s preparation. The heat isn’t meant to destroy, it’s meant to refine. The breaking isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of becoming.

He doesn’t want fans, He wants witnesses. He doesn’t just want brilliance, He wants brokenness, made holy.

I’ve held life before it was ready. Premature twins in trembling hands, prayers rising like oxygen. I knew what it was to fight for survival. But law school? It unraveled something deeper.

Not my intellect. Not my endurance. But my illusion of earning grace. It has been the place where my competence clashes with my calling.

Where I continue to learn that surrender isn’t weakness, it’s sacred.

And maybe that’s why God brought me here.

Not just to pass exams, but to unlearn self-sufficiency. To know the kind of power that only comes through being emptied.

Spiritual Inventory:

When you say “Jesus doesn’t just call us into comfort; He calls us into crucibles,” you’re naming the holy tension.

The fire isn’t punishment, it’s preparation.

The heat isn’t meant to destroy, it’s meant to refine.

The breaking isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of becoming.

• Am I measuring my worth by my struggle?

• Where have I let difficulty convince me I don’t belong?

• What does Jesus say about this moment I’m walking through?

Prayer: Stretch Me Into Who You Saw

Jesus,

I didn’t expect this stretch.

But I’m here, bruised and brilliant, barely holding it together but still holding Your hand. Remind me that struggle isn’t failure, it’s formation.

Remind me that what feels like too much is just enough for You to show up bigger.

I surrender my feeling of not enough.

I receive the grace that qualifies me anyway.

Stretch me.

Strengthen me.

Sanctify every weary part of me.

Amen.