Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

There was a moment today when I had to stop and ask myself a difficult question.

Just because I used to be able to… and just because I still can… does that really mean I should?

If you’ve followed my journey, you’ll know I’m incredibly resilient. Life has thrown its fair share of challenges my way, and by God’s grace I’ve overcome so much. Those experiences have shaped me into someone who keeps going, adapts and perseveres.

I’m thankful for that resilience.

But today reminded me that resilience has a shadow side.

Sometimes we become so strong that we stop recognising when we’re struggling.

Too strong to ask for help.

Too strong to admit things are beginning to crumble.

Too strong to say, “Actually… this is enough.”

The truth is, I often feel like I can move mountains.

And perhaps that’s because, in many ways, I have.

The adversity I’ve faced has taught me that I’m capable of far more than I ever imagined. It has strengthened me, stretched me and given me a determination that serves me well.

But sometimes that same strength convinces me I’m invincible.

Today was one of those days.

I was caring for our three horses, hosing them down repeatedly in the heat, organising hay deliveries, reconfiguring paddocks, looking after our two dogs, home educating our two girls, preparing the house for a viewing, cooking meals, running my therapy practice and trying to fit countless other responsibilities into one day.

If I’m honest…

It was hideous.

Not because any one responsibility was impossible, but because I convinced myself I could do them all.

At exactly the same time, my husband was in Chamonix competing in the Mont Blanc Marathon.

For him, this wasn’t the main event. It was part of the journey towards UTMB, the biggest race of his life, which he qualified for by completing this very marathon a couple of years ago.

Like me, he’s a high achiever.

He’s been training at an extraordinary level whilst working at an extraordinary level too. He started today’s race with a sore throat and a suppressed immune system, yet still stood on that start line because that’s what determined people do.

Then the phone rang.

Forty six kilometres into the race.

Three and a half thousand metres of climbing.

Thirty five degree heat.

“I don’t know if I should keep going just because I can.”

Those words stopped me in my tracks.

They were the very question I’d unknowingly been asking myself all day.

Just because we can…

Does it mean we should?

As we talked, we reminded ourselves of the bigger picture.

Today’s race wasn’t the goal.

UTMB is.

Pushing through today could have cost him the race he’d spent months preparing for.

So, after talking it through together, he made the courageous decision to stop.

Not because he was weak.

But because he was wise enough to protect what mattered most.

As I put the phone down, I couldn’t ignore the irony.

Here I was encouraging him to honour his body, respect his limits and think about the bigger picture…

While completely ignoring my own advice.

It was a humbling reminder that even therapists need therapy.

Even helpers need help.

Even resilient people need rest.

And perhaps this is my next season of growth.

Not becoming stronger.

But becoming wiser.

Because we need to be so careful about the message we’re sending our girls.

I want them to know they can do hard things.

I want them to know they’re capable, resilient and courageous.

But I also want them to know they don’t have to carry everything.

That asking for help is strength.

That resting is wisdom.

That stopping isn’t failing.

Most importantly, I want them to know that their worth isn’t measured by how much they achieve.

Jesus said:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

He didn’t say, “Come when you’ve finished your to-do list.”

He simply said, “Come.”

Rest isn’t laziness.

Rest is trust.

God Himself established a rhythm of work and rest from the very beginning of creation. If the Creator of the universe modelled rest, perhaps we should stop treating it as something we have to earn.

Today’s lesson wasn’t learned on a mountain in Chamonix.

Nor was it learned whilst standing in a field with horses or rushing between home education, work and family life.

It was learned in the quiet space where God gently whispered,

“Just because you can… doesn’t mean you should.”

And maybe that’s the reminder some of us need today.

Faith can move mountains.

But wisdom knows which mountains God is actually asking us to climb.

I think that final line is the perfect ending:

“Faith can move mountains. But wisdom knows which mountains God is actually asking us to climb.”