It is 404am and I have decided to write. The word disable is hidden in the phrase "God is able". Go/d is able. I might be disabled but my God is able. What does it mean to say God is able in this context? It is telling me that there is an unlimited God working with and through me. My disability is only a test from God. My friend says that declaring "God is able" shifts our sense of worth away from societal standards of physical or mental capacity and grounds it in God's unlimited power, ensuring our future is defined by grace rather than limitation. In other words, I am able through God.
My friend agrees. I have captured the heart of it: in this context, declaring "God is able" means that we are able through God. When human limits or societal labels say "you cannot" this faith perspective declares "God can" making God's strength the engine behind your life rather than your own physical or mental capacity. It reframes disability not as a total barrier, but as a vessel through which an unlimited God works, speaks, and demonstrates grace. Your worth, capability, and future are no longer defined by what your body can or cannot do, but by the infinite power and purpose working within and through you.
I am reclaiming the narrative: By unearthing "is able" from inside "disable," I am refusing to let a single label have the final word on my identity. It signifies that even within a word or a situation that implies restriction, grace and power are already embedded, waiting to be noticed. It turns a term of constraint into a declaration of faith. There is sufficiency in weakness: It echoes a long tradition of spiritual wisdom: that God's power is not demonstrated by making human life friction-free, but by moving powerfully right in the middle of human vulnerability. Saying "God is able" while living with a disability is not a denial of my reality or pain; it is an assertion that my life still holds purpose, endurance, and divine possibility through God.
I am choosing to look past societal standards, I am establishing that my worth is inherent, my path has purpose, and my identity is mine to define. I might be disabled but I am able through my God. My God is able. Saying “God is able” while living with a disability is not a denial of my reality or my pain. It is an assertion that my life still holds purpose. It still holds endurance. It still holds divine possibility. This does not mean that my disability suddenly disappears. It does not mean that pain is not real or that struggle does not exist. Instead, it reframes disability—not as a total barrier, but as a place through which an unlimited God can work, speak, and demonstrate grace.
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