I know few better ways to understand myself than being a father. Because kids are, after all, just little humans with all of the wonderful capacities, funny quirks, and deep brokenness that makes people what we are.

“I can’t!”

One of my children recently showed a pattern of facing hard tasks, reaching the frustrating part of the learning curve, and stepping away saying, “I can’t. It’s too hard.” Life is full of hard tasks, many of which are quite clearly beyond us. But “I can’t” isn’t an acceptable response. “I can’t” throws the challenge off with a shrug. “I can’t, and therefore I choose to stop trying.” “I can’t and therefore I don’t need to do it or I don’t care.” It’s Moses making excuses not to speak for God. It’s Elijah in the wilderness, giving up on his calling when there are still 7,000 people quietly standing behind him (1 Kings 19:18). It’s John Mark walking away in the middle of an important missionary journey. In contrast, Scripture shows us David attacking Goliath when seasoned soldiers shrink back in fear; Jonathan storming the unassailable garrison or Stephen preaching judgment to the assembled Sanhedrin. No fatalistic shrug here because “it’s too hard.” “I can’t” never led anyone to courageously attempt the impossible. “I can’t” never helped anyone accomplish the remarkable. “I can’t” succeeds only in becoming a self-fulfilling prophecy.

“I can do anything.”

But I find just as loathsome the self-empowerment mantras that fill cartoons and Facebook memes. “You can do anything you set your mind to” is implausible, but also profoundly arrogant. If all the people who think they should be president were elected there, term limits would be less than 24 hours and the country would be unlivable. You simply can’t ever become certain things—a different gender, for instance. There are people who shouldn’t enter a given kind of work—they weren’t made to do that. And reinventing yourself isn’t always a good thing. Is it really wisdom for an 18-year-old to ask what they feel like becoming, throw all caution and counsel to the wind, and then spend years trying to “create themselves”? What if instead they asked, “how can I best use my life to honor God?” Or spent time carefully listening to the advice of people who have already lived life and done it well? If “I can’t” paralyzes people, “I can do it all” sends them off pursuing the wrong things and forever wondering if they missed their passion.

“I can’t, but God will help me.”

And yet it’s a quandary. I want to reject both lies while holding both insights. I desperately want my child to attack challenges with confidence. Don’t know how to play an instrument, write code, fix an appliance, or give a presentation? Read a book, ask someone who knows, take a course, figure it out! You can do this!

But I also want him to live humbly, because truthfully, I can’t do anything. Love my family, raise my children, share the gospel, serve God, make it through one more day—it’s all too much for me! Reverse the mantra and it might be right—“is there anything I can do?”

Which took me to the conclusion that helped my son and still helps me. In place of “I can’t” or “I can do anything,” try the response, “This is hard… but God will help me.” Here’s why I believe that’s more than just a cute mantra:

  1. It confesses true confidence, but in a source outside of myself. Utterly reject the foolish paralyses that makes people stop trying, learning or working. God made you to do what you’re supposed to accomplish. If it needs to be done, go do it. But it isn’t because you’re amazing. You aren’t; you’re broken. God is the marvel here, and only Him.
  2. It balances our responsibility with God’s providence, because I don’t get to pass this one off and blame it on God when nothing happens. I will have to work and make effort. It will be hard. And God will help me.
  3. It puts the credit where it belongs. The intoxicating message that you can be anything if you just work hard enough leads to a nasty end, even if you do succeed. It’s the self-reliance of Invictus: “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.” But contrast that with turning around at the end of life, surveying all the blessings that came from confidence in God and freely testifying, “He helped me.” Or to borrow Paul’s words, “But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me was not in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me” (1 Corinthians 15:10).

My son took the advice. A month later, I don’t remember the last time I heard him say “I can’t, it’s too hard!” and gave up on something. But more importantly, it taught me an important lesson about parenting and life. I can’t. I really can’t. And yet I absolutely, certainly can. Because God will help me.