When a Man Can't Fix Everything

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.”1 Peter 5:7 ↗

Something changes for a man somewhere in his forties. At least it has for me.

For most of my adult life, the focus was on what was ahead. Build a career, raise a family, buy a house, make some money, have some fun and keep working toward whatever came next. There were always problems to solve, but there was also a feeling that life was still being built.

Then, almost without noticing it, the view starts to change.

Your kids get older and college becomes a real conversation. Retirement isn't some distant idea anymore. Your parents are aging, and suddenly you find yourself helping them with things they once helped you with. People you love get sick. Family members pass away. You start thinking about how much time you may actually have left with certain people.

The things that once seemed important don't always seem quite as important anymore.

At the same time, it can feel like more people than ever are counting on you.

Your wife and kids need you. Your parents may need you. People at work need you. There are bills to pay, college to figure out, retirement to plan for and a house that always seems to need something. Then someone has a health problem, someone else needs help, something breaks, and somehow you're supposed to know what to do next.

For a lot of men, myself included, that isn't necessarily a complaint. I like solving problems. I believe God gave me the ability to look at something that isn't working, understand it and find a way forward. It's part of who I am.

I also believe men have responsibilities we shouldn't run from. We are called to provide, protect, lead, serve and carry weight for the people God has placed in our lives.

Which is probably why one common piece of Christian advice has always been difficult for me:

“Just give it to God.”

I struggle with that phrase. Not because I don't believe in God, but because I do.

What Does Giving It to God Actually Mean?

If God gave me the ability to solve problems, when does using that ability become me trying to control something I should be trusting Him with?

When am I supposed to keep pushing, make the phone call, find another answer, make the difficult decision and do whatever needs to be done?

And when am I supposed to admit that I cannot fix this one?

God, I don't know what to do with this. I need You to carry it.

I don't know where that line is.

The older I get, the less interested I am in pretending I have answers that I don't have.

Scripture tells us to trust God, but Scripture certainly doesn't tell men to sit around and wait for God to handle everything. We are told to work, lead, persevere, care for our families, be courageous and carry one another's burdens. At the same time, we are told to cast our anxieties on Him because He cares for us.

So what does that look like when the problem sitting in front of you is real?

I wish I could tell you.

Maybe There Isn't a Line

I'm starting to wonder whether I've been looking at this the wrong way.

Maybe trusting God and taking responsibility aren't opposite choices.

Sometimes faith may mean praying and then getting to work. Sometimes it may mean fighting with everything you have for your family while asking God to direct every step. And sometimes it may mean finally admitting that no amount of effort, planning, money, intelligence or determination is going to give you control over what happens next.

That last one is difficult for me.

My instinct is to fix it. Give me the problem, enough information and some time, and I believe I can usually find a way forward.

Until life hands you something that doesn't have a solution.

You cannot stop your parents from aging. You cannot make every decision for your children or protect them from every mistake. You cannot guarantee your family's health. You cannot keep everyone you love alive, and no amount of planning will give you control over tomorrow.

Eventually every man runs into something he cannot fix.

And that realization can shake more than your confidence. It can shake your faith.

The Questions Change Too

I've found myself asking different questions at this stage of life.

Am I doing what I'm supposed to be doing? Am I actually following God, or have I just gotten good at telling myself that I am? Have I been the husband I should be? The father? The son?

Have I spent too much of my life chasing things that don't matter?

And maybe the hardest one: am I actually listening to God, or am I deciding what needs to happen and then asking Him to help me accomplish it?

Those aren't particularly comfortable questions, but I think they are necessary ones.

Romans 12:2 tells us not to conform to the pattern of this world, but to be transformed by the renewing of our minds so that we can discern God's will.

I've read that verse plenty of times, but the word discern means more to me now.

Maybe the challenge at this point in life isn't simply doing more or trying harder. Maybe part of it is learning to recognize what God is actually asking me to do—and what He isn't.

I Don't Have This Figured Out

This would be a convenient place to give you five steps for knowing when to act and when to surrender.

I can't.

I don't have this solved, and I'm not sure I ever completely will. Maybe someday it will make more sense. Maybe I won't fully understand it until I meet Him.

What I do know is that I don't believe God gave men strength, ability and responsibility so we could sit on the sidelines and call it faith. But I also don't believe He intended us to carry the entire world on our shoulders and call that strength.

Somewhere between those two is the man I am trying to become.

I want to be willing to fight when there is something worth fighting for, work when there is work to be done and lead when my family needs me to lead. But I also want to become humble enough to recognize when the weight I'm carrying was never mine to carry alone.

Maybe that is part of what this season of life is teaching me.

I don't need to stop being a man who solves problems. I need to understand that solving every problem was never the standard.

I am responsible for what God puts in front of me. I can show up. I can work. I can pray. I can seek wisdom. I can make the best decision I know how to make and keep asking Him to correct me when I'm wrong.

The outcome was never completely mine.

I'm still learning that.

And maybe that's where I need to leave this one—not with an answer, but with the question I'm still trying to answer myself:

When is God asking me to carry the weight, and when is He waiting for me to finally let Him help?