The way of the impossible 

The word impossible has a way of stopping us in our tracks. It sounds final, immovable, and authoritative. It speaks with a confidence that can intimidate even the most resilient leader or the most committed believer. Yet Scripture consistently treats the impossible not as a boundary, but as an invitation. An invitation to look beyond human limitation and to rediscover where real power, purpose, and faith begin.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 19:26 are often quoted, but rarely fully absorbed. When He says that with God all things are possible, He is not offering a motivational slogan. He is confronting the quiet assumption that our experience, resources, or credentials are the ultimate measure of what can be done. In leadership, in vocation, and in faith, we frequently assess feasibility before we assess obedience. The impossible exposes that habit. It reveals whether our confidence is rooted in God’s capacity or our own competence.
Jeremiah understood this tension deeply. Standing amid national crisis and personal uncertainty, he declared that nothing is too hard for God. This was not naïve optimism. It was a deliberate act of faith grounded in the character of God as Creator. When we lose sight of who God is, the impossible grows large. When we remember who God is, impossibility begins to shrink back to its proper size.

The New Testament continues this theme, but with a sharper personal edge. Paul’s declaration in Philippians 4:13 is often detached from its context, yet it was written from a place of constraint rather than comfort. Strength in Christ was not about limitless choice, but about faithful endurance. The impossible is not always removed; sometimes it is endured. Faith does not deny reality, but it refuses to let reality have the final word.

Hebrews 11 reframes the entire discussion by redefining faith itself. Faith is not wishful thinking or religious bravado. It is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. This is uncomfortable language for leaders trained to rely on data, forecasts, and evidence. Yet even the most analytical disciplines ultimately operate on assumptions. Faith simply acknowledges its assumptions openly and anchors them in God rather than self.

Importantly, Hebrews 11:6 reminds us that faith is not optional. Without it, it is impossible to please God. That statement should unsettle us. It suggests that God is not primarily impressed by our achievements, strategies, or outcomes, but by our trust. The impossible becomes a testing ground, not of capability, but of belief.

Paul adds a necessary corrective in Romans 12:3, urging us to think of ourselves with sober judgement. Faith is not arrogance. Believing God for the impossible does not mean denying our limitations or inflating our role. It means understanding the measure of faith God has given and stewarding it responsibly. Humility and faith are not opposites; they are partners.
Romans 10:17 brings us to the practical question of growth. Faith comes from hearing the word of Christ. In other words, faith is cultivated, not conjured. If our inner narrative is shaped primarily by fear, media, or past failure, the impossible will always feel overwhelming. If it is shaped by God’s word, the impossible becomes a context in which faith can mature.
This brings us to one of the most honest prayers in Scripture, found in Mark 9:24. “I believe; help my unbelief.” This is not a contradiction; it is a confession. It acknowledges that faith and doubt often coexist. God does not seem offended by this honesty. On the contrary, He responds to it. The impossible does not require perfect faith, only genuine faith.

Ultimately, the impossible confronts us with a choice. Will we retreat into what feels safe and controllable, or will we step forward in trust? Hebrews 11:1 does not promise certainty, but it does promise substance. Faith gives weight to hope and shape to expectation. In a world increasingly defined by anxiety and limitation, the Christian response to the impossible is neither denial nor despair. It is trust. And that trust, quietly and consistently exercised, has a way of changing everything. The impossible, then, becomes not an obstacle to faith, but the very place where faith learns to walk steadily with God.