A few weeks ago, I walked out of the gym and came across an unsettling sight.  I saw a man pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk while shouting obscenities at the cars passing him by. 

While I have seen stranger things than this before, my heart was incredibly concerned by the fact that there might be a child involved in this alarming situation.

Concerned, I drew close enough to look in the stroller (he was about 20 yards from my car) and was relieved to find the stroller empty – there was no baby in it.  However, even as my initial fears subsided, new concern welled up in my heart for this man.

What’s going on?  Why is he so angry?  What’s with the baby stroller and the shouting?  His appearance and activity suggested some sort of mental health issue might be at work. 

I felt strangely powerless in that moment.  I wanted to help, but what could I possibly do?  I’m no counsellor.  I’m not trained in mental health services.  What could I possibly offer this man that would be of help to him?

Unsure of what to do and honestly, a bit concerned for my own safety, I concluded there was really nothing I could do, so I offered up a prayer on his behalf and drove away.  (I realize prayer isn’t nothing – in that moment, however, I was trying to figure out if there was something I could do in addition to prayer.) 

The problem was, the further away I drove, the more unsettled I felt by this whole experience. 

As I continued to reflect on what just happened, a word of scripture began to echo in my mind from Acts 3.  Peter and John were headed to the temple and while on their way, they encountered a man born lame from birth.  The man lay on the ground begging, hoping that those entering the temple might show him kindness and offer him some money.  This was their response to the man in need:

Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong.  ~ Acts 3:6-7 (NIV)

They did not have silver.  They did not have gold.  This was true.  They did not have what the man hoped to receive and yet, they did not let what they lacked set the limits of what they had to give. 

From a human perspective, there was nothing they could do and yet, they realized that even when their pockets were empty, their lives were full of a power that could even outshine silver and gold. In Christ, they still had something to give. 

As I reflected on this story, a question stirred in my mind: Why was I so quick to conclude there was nothing I could do for this man? 

Look, I’m fully aware that I’m not a trained mental health counselor.  I’m not a therapist or a social worker and I know that not every problem that comes our way is ours to solve, fix, or handle.  I didn’t leave with a sense of guilt and there was never a moment when I sensed God say, “Go, do this…”.  I don’t look back with a sense of disobedience and feel like I was pulling a ‘Jonah’, running away from the purpose and people God had called me to. 

That’s not what’s got me so unsettled. 

What I’m most concerned by is, when faced with a need that was beyond my human capacity, I so quickly concluded there was nothing I could do.  What I’m still wrestling with is how little I considered what might be possible through the power and promises of God at work in my life.

The Bible teaches that the same power that raised Christ from the dead (the very power that restored the capacity to walk to the man in Acts 3) lives in those who put their faith in Jesus Christ (Romans 8:11).  So, if the same power that raised Christ from the dead and healed that man’s broken body is truly in me and you, then why was I so quick to allow human limitations to set the terms of my action rather than the limitless power of God? 

The Bible teaches that God has not given us a Spirit of fear but of power, love, and self-control. (2 Timothy 1:7)  If that’s true (and I’m convinced it is), why was I so quick to assume and accept my powerlessness?

In response to this experience, I’ve been meditating on these words from Romans 8:

If Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness. And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in you. ~ Romans 8:10-11 (NIV)

Let these words and the truth they contain soak in for a moment. 

“If Christ is in you…” Oh Church, what a glorious thought!  Christ in us! “…Then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life…” What a promise!  In Christ, our God gives a life that even death itself cannot conquer!  “And if the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you…” that’s the power at work in us – the very Holy Spirit of God!

If we’re in Christ, then there’s more power within us than in any problem we’ll ever face.  This doesn’t’ mean that our lives on the other side of Jesus will be easy, that we’ll have an answer for every problem that comes our way, or that we’ll immediately know what to do in any and every situation. 

But what it does mean is that even when our human capacities reach their limits, there’s a power yet within us in and through Christ Jesus that is greater than anything we’ll ever face. 

I don’t know what you’re facing these days.  I don’t know if it’s screaming men pushing empty baby strollers or something a bit more…well…normative.  All I know is that if you’re in Christ, then the dead-raising, grave-robbing, tomb-raiding Spirit of God is in you – it’s time we stop underestimating that power.