Parenting is demanding for anyone, but single parenting carries unique burdens. As the father of an energetic 4-year-old, I’ve faced challenges—balancing work and childcare, the constant calculations of time and energy, and the quiet ache of an empty house on the nights my daughter is with her mother. I want to be fully present, but I feel stretched thin, longing to provide everything my daughter needs while knowing I cannot be both parents to her.
At times, these limits have made me feel like a failure. But I am learning that they are not obstacles to overcome; they are part of God’s sovereign plan to draw me into deeper dependence on Him. Each of my challenges teaches me that my sufficiency is not found in my own strength, but in Christ alone.
I Can’t Do It All
Our culture exalts self-sufficiency, achievement, and relentless productivity. We’re constantly told to hustle harder, push further, and overcome whatever gets in our way. Weakness is seen as something to conquer, and limits are viewed as enemies to success.
I believed this too. Growing up, I was drawn to self-reliance and high achievement. I was placed in a gifted and talented program, took the most challenging courses to maximize my GPA, and spent most weekends traveling for athletic competitions. I was a Division I athlete at a solid academic college, balancing rigorous coursework while leading a college ministry. In seminary, I juggled multiple part-time jobs while pursuing full-time studies. Productivity, efficiency, and pushing past my limits weren’t just habits—they were my way of life. I thrived on doing more, achieving more, and proving to myself and others that I could handle anything.
That mindset worked for a while—at least in academics and ministry. But it couldn’t carry me through one of the most difficult and disorienting seasons of my life: becoming a single parent.
Now, the simplest tasks—grocery shopping, getting out the door, preparing meals, bedtime routines—take much longer than they used to. Dreams I once held, goals I assumed I would have reached by now, have been put on hold. It has humbled me, stripped away my illusion of control, and confronted me with a truth I had long resisted: I can’t do it all.
Learning to Trust the One Without Limits
Coming to terms with my limitations was only the beginning. The deeper shift came when I realized that overcoming those limits wasn’t the answer—but neither was despair. I didn’t need to conquer my weakness, and I didn’t need to be crushed by it. I needed to trust the One who has no weakness at all. When I couldn’t carry the full weight of parenting alone, I began to not just know theologically but actually experience in real life that God could. In the long days and quiet nights, in the missed milestones and messy moments, I saw that His strength really is made perfect in weakness.
Only God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient. He alone has no limits, which is exactly why He is worthy of trust and worship. I, however, am finite. And my limitations as a single parent have become a gracious invitation to live in light of that reality—to stop living as if I’m sovereign and start resting in the fact that He is.
This brings deep comfort when I think about my daughter’s future. God has not asked me to raise her in my own strength. Instead, He’s given a promise I cling to: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). He doesn’t expect me to be both parents. He calls me to be a faithful father, trusting that He will provide for her what I cannot.
This is a freeing truth: I don’t have to be perfect or limitless. I just need to point my daughter to the One who is.
My Identity Is Secure in His Love
Even as I learn to entrust my daughter to God, I find it harder to entrust myself to him. I still slip into old patterns—trying to optimize my schedule with no margins, manage everything perfectly, and push through exhaustion like my value depends on how much I get done. But the gospel speaks a better word. It reminds me that my identity is not found in how well I perform as a father, but in the unshakable love of God.
God’s love for me is not fragile. It’s not tied to my parenting success, emotional strength, or daily productivity. His love is rooted in the finished work of Christ—secured by His life, death, and resurrection.
Jesus, the perfect Son of God, entered into human limitations. He grew tired, wept with sorrow, and bore the full weight of suffering. He understands the exhaustion I feel. And He didn’t come just to relate—He came to redeem. At the cross, Jesus not only took my sin, but gave me a new name: beloved son.
Gift of Limits
As I raise my daughter, I want her to see that limits are not a flaw to fix but a feature of God’s plan. The world will tell her she can be anything, do everything, and need no one. But I want her to know that she was made to depend—not on herself, but on the God who formed her and sustains her by grace.
When she encounters frustration, disappointment, or failure, I pray she won’t see those moments as the end of the story, but as invitations to trust her heavenly Father—whose love never fails and whose grace never runs dry.
And as I parent her, I’m learning to worship God in the very limits that once discouraged me. I don’t have to fear weakness anymore. As Paul wrote, “When I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10). My limits aren’t in the way of what God wants to do—they are the very place where He meets me.
So I will keep walking forward, not in my own strength, but in His. And I’ll keep pointing my daughter—not to a perfect dad, but to a perfect Savior.
His grace is sufficient. For both of us.
Header Photo Credit: Daiga Ellaby