Crushed by Difficulty: A Response to August 2nd

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Discipline of Difficulty,” promises that God gives believers “life as we overcome” troubles rather than easy deliverance, claiming that “the strain is the strength” and that pushing spiritually through difficulties provides more strength, with saints becoming “filled with hilarity when crushed by difficulties” because “no plague can come near the place where you are at one with God.”

Here’s what trusting that God gives life through overcoming and spiritual strength through strain actually delivered:


“God doesn’t give you overcoming life; He gives you life as you overcome,” Pastor Anderson taught with spiritual conviction. “The strain is the strength. Push yourself spiritually through difficulties and you’ll get more strength. Face troubles with gladness—saints are filled with hilarity when crushed because no plague can come near where you’re at one with God.”

Angela had been struggling with chronic pain from fibromyalgia while caring for her special needs child and working full-time to support her family. The promise that spiritual strain would provide strength and that being one with God would protect her from harm seemed like the divine perspective she needed to find joy and strength through overwhelming circumstances.

Angela desperately wanted to believe that pushing through spiritually would provide supernatural strength and that oneness with God would shield her from further difficulties. Instead of seeking comprehensive pain management, respite care for her child, workplace accommodations, or mental health support for caregiver burnout, she tried to face her troubles with gladness and push herself spiritually, trusting that the strain itself would become her strength and that divine protection would prevent additional challenges.

For months, Angela refused pain medication and declined offers of childcare assistance, believing that overcoming through spiritual strain was God’s method of giving her life and that accepting human help would interfere with the divine strength that comes from pushing through difficulties. When concerned friends suggested practical solutions like disability accommodations, support groups for special needs parents, or even basic rest, she declined, convinced that finding hilarity in being crushed by circumstances demonstrated the spiritual victory available to those at one with God.

But the promised life through overcoming and strength through spiritual strain was physical collapse disguised as divine victory.

Angela’s attempts to find spiritual strength through strain created additional suffering on top of chronic pain and caregiver exhaustion. The supernatural strength that pushing through spiritually was supposed to provide remained absent while her health deteriorated and her ability to care for her family diminished. The divine protection from plague that oneness with God was supposed to guarantee never materialized when additional crises compounded her existing struggles.

Meanwhile, Angela’s neighbor Rosa approached her own chronic illness and caregiving challenges with zero expectation that spiritual strain would provide supernatural strength. When Rosa faced similar fibromyalgia while caring for a disabled family member, she immediately sought comprehensive pain management, utilized respite care services, and focused entirely on evidence-based strategies for managing chronic illness while maintaining caregiving responsibilities through practical support systems.

Rosa didn’t try to find strength through spiritual strain but treated chronic pain and caregiver burnout as medical and social challenges requiring professional intervention and community support. Her stability came through pain management protocols, caregiver support services, and gradually building sustainable care strategies through sustained practical assistance rather than trusting that spiritual pushing through difficulties would provide divine strength and protection from additional challenges.

When Angela finally sought similar professional help, she discovered that healthy chronic illness management and caregiving required understanding medical treatment options and utilizing support services rather than trusting that spiritual strain would provide supernatural strength and divine protection from harm.

Where was the life that God was supposed to give through overcoming difficulties with spiritual strain? Where was the strength that pushing spiritually was supposed to provide when facing impossible circumstances?

The support that actually helped came through accepting the medical reality of chronic illness and focusing on evidence-based pain management and caregiver assistance, not through believing that spiritual strain would provide supernatural strength and divine protection. The silence where God was supposed to be giving life through overcoming revealed the truth: there was no divine strength available through spiritual pushing or protection from plague for those at one with God.

Only chronic pain conditions and caregiver burnout that required professional understanding and practical support systems to manage sustainable care without physical collapse.


Reflection Question: When has comprehensive medical care and practical support services been more effective than trusting that spiritual strain provides supernatural strength and divine protection?


This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

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Author: Richard L. Fricks

Writer. Observer. Builder. I write from a life shaped by attention, simplicity, and living without a script—through reflective essays, long-form inquiry, and fiction rooted in ordinary lives. I live in rural Alabama, where writing, walking, and building small, intentional spaces are part of the same practice.

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