Two weeks ago, I uploaded the blog “Fallible”. In essence, it’s about being the opposite of infallible or perfect which are attributes of God. I think the next few weeks will continue the “not God” theme.

This week is about how I am limited.

One of the last things my mom did for me before she passed away in 2018 was edit one of my books. I have not yet looked at those edits. Instead, four years later that file folder sits in the office, waiting for me to get back to it.

Obviously, there are more reasons that limited time and energy that have kept me from looking at what she did. Grief also has played a part.

A couple of my beta readers have said that it was the best thing of mine they’ve read. And yet, it sits. It is, in essence, an emotional landmine that I can’t yet pass.

I wish I could say that it’s the only book or partial book in my house (or on my laptop) that gathers dust. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Other books sit because they’ve been rejected. Other projects sit because I lost momentum. Still others sit because I couldn’t figure out a critical part of the plot. Others because I got bored. (Way too many of those! Thank you, short attention span!)

If I wasn’t limited by my time, my emotions, my energy and my mind, I would have completed a couple thousand books by this point.

But it’s useless to wish I wasn’t limited. Being limited is part and parcel of the human condition. Our bodies limit us. We can only interact with reality as regards to the form we have been given. It allows us to touch the world and people around us, yet not completely.

I remember learning and then later teaching that scientifically speaking, we never really touch anything. Two atoms cannot occupy the same space. What we perceive as contact is one set of atoms moving another set. It gives a whole other level to the child backseat bickering of “he/she’s touching me!” because the more informed of the two will say, “no, I’m not” and then explain it in exhausting detail.

Several Proverbs touch on how we are limited in this way. In 14:10, Solomon says “The heart knows its own bitterness, and a stranger does not share its joy.” Solomon also says in one of his prayers (repeated both in Kings and Chronicles) that “each one knows his own burden and own grief…” In other words, because we are limited, we can’t know or understand what the people around us feel, know or go through. We are bounded by this physical form and by the limits of our minds. That mind cannot convey what it is thinking and feeling to another. Not adequately.

But God knows every bit of us and our limitations. Paul says in Romans 8 that the Spirit of God leads us and understands us. He knows that we are limited and loves us anyway. Later, in Ephesians, Paul says that in Christ our limits disappear. “Through Christ I can do all things.”

The key is through who.

Through ourselves and our limits, we can do pitifully little. We only have so much strength, so much brainpower. Even the wittiest among us is an idiot compared to God Almighty who knows everything. The most powerful human has no ability to change the galaxy or put a sun into orbit. Compared to God, we are smaller than an ant moving a crumb.

But through Christ? Tapping into the mind and the strength and the will of the one who crafted every atom of the soil we walk on? Asking for the will of the one who holds all of eternity in his hands?

The triune God is not limited. So when we walk in his will and work for his kingdom, limits will fade.

Until we go back to our own strength and purposes. Then we get a vivid reminder that we are dust.

Being limited is not a bad thing. It’s a reminder of our position and purpose. And within those limits, looking up to Jesus, we can grow.

Now if I can figure out which novels he wants me to write, I’d be good.

Thanks so much for having me, Susan! I am excited to be here and to share about my upcoming novel, A Dim Hope.

I have been working with kids and teens for nearly twenty years, and particularly with teens for the last two years. None of us would argue that the world is changing. This means a teen’s world is also changing.

With access to the internet, cable television, and entertainment put out by a world that is growing more and more atheistic (in fact, a 2022 Gallup poll found that only 68% of American young people say they even believe in God) it can be tough to be a teen!

I find that teenagers today are seeking authenticity. What is real? Sometimes, this leads teens down a path toward real pain, real heartache, and real darkness. However, Christ tells us that when He is lifted up, He will draw all men to Himself.

Just as teens will be drawn to real darkness, they can also be drawn to real light, real hope, and real joy. The key is authenticity. They must be able to see it is real—because teens can spot a fake just as surely as a dog can sniff out bacon!

My newest book, A Dim Hope, was written with this mindset in hand. Amber, the heroine in my story, faces real heartache. Her beloved sister is gravely injured. To add insult to injury, the very next day Amber is sent away to be a servant on a scientific expedition. This isn’t what she wants or had planned for. She is devastated.

However, her life isn’t hopeless. Amber allows her trials to push her toward finding the Keeper, the mysterious mythical being who runs the world. Is he real? Can he be found, and could he help? Amber vows to find out.

A Dim Hope can offer today’s teens access to real grief but real light to help with those griefs. It is my sincere hope that today’s teens will get to read it!

A Dim Hope releases on September 22nd!

Pre Order Link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09VS2LLR3/ref=dbs_a_def_awm_bibl_vppi_i9

Blurb:

Amber is in trouble. Her sister is dying—and so is her homeland. The Lifeforce stones that power their world are waning, and no one knows why. When the rulers of the land prepare a scientific expedition to study the place where the veins of the Lifeforce run deep, Amber is forced to travel as a servant with the expedition. Though Amber has longed for adventure, her dream always included her sister. Now her only wish is to return home with a cure before it's too late.

Crops are wilting, food is scarce, and sandstorms, avalanches, and earthquakes threaten to doom the expedition. Besides this, there are more sinister forces at work. Quiet arguments and missing supplies lead Amber to believe their efforts are being sabotaged. She uncovers clues, but the real source of their trouble—and hope—lies in places she never expected.

About the Author

KATIE CLARK started reading fantastical stories in grade school and her love for books never died. Today she reads in all genres; her only requirement is an awesome story! She writes young adult speculative fiction, including her romantic fantasy novel, The Rejected Princess, her Beguiled Series, and her dystopian Enslaved Series. You can connect with her at her website, or on social media @KatieClarkBooks.

Welcome to the rest of the Christmas in July subscribers!

Now, on to this week’s blog.

I have strong perfectionist tendencies.

For those of you who know me, that’s no surprise. It means that I take pride (probably too much so) in what I know and understand and remember. It also means that I mentally beat myself up whenever I don’t know, don’t understand or don’t remember.

While intellectually I realize that I am human and know that I’m fallible, my ego has a hard time coming to grips with that. Rather, the ego within me acts as if I may someday be able to know and understand everything.

Sometimes, I have to wonder if the tutoring environment helps or hinders that battle between my ego and my inabilities, my pride and my humanity.

Case in point. Recently, in a tutoring session, I came across a math problem that looked quite complicated (radicals of radicals to start with) but my mind said, “You got this. Change all the radicals to fractional exponents.” So I told the student the same. Then we proceeded to get the same wrong answer on three separate attempts. Both of us frustrated, we moved on. When I reviewed the problem later, I noticed we had both persisted in committing one simple error at the same stage each time. We multiplied where we should have added.

A mistake. A common everyday mistake. But I’m still dwelling on it days later. As Gary would say, I’m beating myself with an imaginary wet noodle.

That reminds me that I’m mentally fallible. I know I’m not the smartest person ever. But I imagine that I should know what I know. These lapses of brain power mean I’m not as much me as my thoughts imagine.

But I’m also relationally fallible. And how I react to those instances are even worse. When I think I’ve mistreated someone or not understood them correctly, I will wake in the middle of the night replaying conversations I should’ve had or “fixing” ones I already did have. I will agonize over what I could have said or should have said. If you’ve known me and know that I tend to be quiet sometimes, it’s because in those instances, I can’t complete the analysis of what is best to say in a timely manner.

And yes, I do wake up with the perfect response sometimes. Only then, it is much too late to offer it.

So I am mentally and emotionally fallible.

But as the years go by, as if to add insult to injury (as the idiom says), my body is also increasingly demonstrating its fallibility. Pain crops up where there shouldn’t be any. Joints and limbs momentarily (or longer) decide not to work. I can go to sleep okay and wake up with a bum shoulder. And don’t even get me started on the mirror and how my reflection matches the picture in my head less and less with each passing day.

Therefore, all these points and many more state that I am fallible.

Why do my emotions argue with these truths then? Is it just my diehard perfectionism fighting against reality? Why do I persist in believing that I can be better?

I think it’s my own version of Paul’s internal debate in Romans 7 and 8. I want to be good. I want to be better. I want to do what is right. But I often find myself on the fallible side of those desires. I fail where I want to succeed. I forget where I want to remember. I’m weak when I want to be strong.

But, and this is a big but, the fact that I want the good means there’s hope for me. The fact that aging seems wrong means I hunger for eternity.

On this side though, may I be humble enough to admit my mistakes and ask forgiveness for them. Because in the temporal I can never be all that God designed for me as much as I would want that.

But that doesn’t mean I should stop trying.