I always think about the idea that God never gives you more than
I always think about the idea that God never gives you more than you can handle, and just the idea that God would be looking at me and thinking, 'Eh, I think she can handle more.' And the angels thinking, 'What are you doing? You're a lunatic.' And God being like, 'No, no, trust me. She can handle this.'
Hear, O seeker of resilience, the words of Tig Notaro, spoken with humor but carrying the weight of ancient struggle: “I always think about the idea that God never gives you more than you can handle, and just the idea that God would be looking at me and thinking, ‘Eh, I think she can handle more.’ And the angels thinking, ‘What are you doing? You’re a lunatic.’ And God being like, ‘No, no, trust me. She can handle this.’” At first it makes us laugh, for it is dressed in comedy, but within the laughter lies a teaching: that the burdens laid upon us, though they may seem unbearable, carry within them a hidden strength we do not yet know we possess.
The origin of this saying rests in an old belief found in many traditions—that the divine, or fate itself, tests the strength of the human soul, never breaking it fully, but pressing it to its hidden limits. Tig Notaro takes this solemn teaching and recasts it in humor, imagining even the angels in Heaven aghast at the trials she faces, while God, in playful stubbornness, insists that she is capable. It is the language of comedy, but it masks the deeper truth: the human spirit is far stronger than it believes, and often endurance is revealed only in the fire of adversity.
The ancients spoke often of such trials. The Book of Job tells of a man tested beyond comprehension, stripped of wealth, health, and family, yet still holding fast to faith. In Greek myth, Hercules was burdened with impossible labors, yet through each trial, his strength grew until he stood as a hero for all time. In both sacred story and myth, the same lesson emerges: the gods—or fate, or God Himself—seem sometimes to give more than any mortal can bear. And yet, in bearing it, the mortal discovers a power that astonishes even the watchers of Heaven.
History too offers examples of this strange truth. Consider Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years in prison, facing cruelty, injustice, and the weight of despair. To the angels of his age, it may have seemed madness that such suffering was placed upon one man. And yet, he endured, and when he emerged, he became not broken but greater, a leader whose strength reshaped a nation. The burden, though crushing, revealed the depth of his spirit.
But there is wisdom also in Notaro’s humor, for she reminds us that endurance does not always feel noble or glorious. It often feels absurd, relentless, even unfair. To imagine God as a trickster saying, “She can handle more,” is to voice the bewilderment of every soul under trial. And yet, this very absurdity can bring comfort. For if suffering is too great to make sense, laughter itself becomes a form of survival, a way of saying: “You have not broken me yet.” Humor, then, is not denial but a weapon against despair.
The lesson is this: though life may at times feel like too much, though the burdens seem beyond reason, there is within each of us a strength that surpasses what we imagine. The trials of life are not given to destroy us, but to reveal the hidden depths of our courage, our endurance, and our faith. Whether one believes in God, fate, or the resilience of the human heart, the truth is the same: we can endure more than we think. And in that endurance, we find transformation.
Practical wisdom flows from this. When burdened, do not measure your strength by how light the load feels, but by your choice to keep moving beneath it. When despair comes, laugh if you must, for laughter is also defiance. Surround yourself with those who remind you of your strength, and when you cannot trust yourself, trust that life has carried countless souls through trials as great or greater. For every Job, every Mandela, every Tig Notaro who laughs in the face of sorrow, testifies: the spirit is unbreakable.
So remember this teaching: when the weight is heavy and the angels themselves would protest, hear instead the divine whisper: “Trust me. You can handle this.” For though the burden may shatter illusions, it will not shatter you. And when you rise on the other side, the world will see in you a strength forged in fire, a strength you never knew you held.
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