“I’m doing the best I can with what I have.”
Margaret Emma Perry serves with the Reformed Church in Hungary (RCH).
“I’m doing the best I can with what I have.”
I think everyone has heard and most likely spoken these words at some point. For me, I wielded this phrase as a thoughtless white lie too often in university. It typically took the form of a resigned shrug, a whispered reassurance before submitting work that I knew, in truth, was definitely not my best. Among my equally weary peers, it became a communal exhalation—a plea for validation, a shared nod of understanding among a dutiful counsel of confirmation bias. After all, there is no fairer judgment than a jury of your peers. It became an easy, comfortable mantra.
Words are slippery things. They shift, evolve, and take on new faces depending on where we stand when we say them. A critical part of being a Global Mission Intern is the literal, metaphorical, and spiritual shift in where you stand and all the changes that come with it. As a result, I realize that I have wielded this phrase as an excuse, a thin veneer over efforts that, if I were truly self-critical, did not fully stretch the boundaries of what I could give. During my time in Hungary, I have worked and spoken with individuals from diverse contexts, experiences, and perspectives. Through these interactions, I have felt called to be more critical and careful in employing this phrase.
In 1 Peter 4:10, Peter writes, “Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” For me, the key to this verse is how the gift we are granted is left so broad. This gift, or rather the “what we have” element, is open to us to explore and define. Oftentimes, our first thought when defining what we have is to identify material possessions. But the beauty of the scripture is that our gifts go beyond this. “What we have” is not merely a sum of material possessions or even personal skills but rather an untapped well of resilience, creativity, and faith. When we believe we have reached the edges of our ability, is that boundary real—or is it only the limit of our imagination? I have met people who, against overwhelming barriers, refuse to let circumstance dictate possibility. They carve new paths where none exist. They build with what is at hand and create something wholly new.
In Transcarpathia, the westernmost region of Ukraine, communities have persisted and persevered under obstacles resulting from the Russian Federation’s full-scale invasion. Families are separated, with many fathers, sons, brothers, and uncles living across the border. Those unable to travel, particularly the elderly and disabled, have been left behind. Expenses for goods, gasoline, and heat are high. Church membership has declined, and school enrolment has witnessed a decrease. Military checkpoints sit at the edges of villages and cities, stopping cars to check the identification of each male passenger. Conscription laws are changing. Amidst these developments, the escalating rhetoric and policies of the United States administration contribute to an already dire situation.
And yet, the old idiom “necessity is the mother of invention” rings true. In Transcarpathia, where there is a need, a vision, and a will, there is a way. I have witnessed communities that possess little but move mountains through creativity, faith, and unrelenting commitment. They do not settle for limits; they innovate beyond them.
Despite power outages lasting up to 10 hours a day, the Reformed Church in Transcarpathia has pioneered a solution by installing, with the support of international partners, an Uninterruptible Power Supply System across various locations. This system ensures electricity continuity while reducing costs and environmental impact. Future plans even include integrating solar panels to create a more sustainable energy source.
Churches have also found ways to transform crisis into opportunity. When refugees from Eastern Ukraine arrived in Transcarpathia, churches did not just offer shelter—some provided employment, helping displaced families regain stability. Additionally, social kitchens continue to serve thousands despite the rising food and gas costs. Communities have mobilised local and international fundraising efforts to sustain these vital projects.
Ingenuity is also evident in small-scale agricultural initiatives, such as the Seeds of Hope program. Understanding that food security is a growing concern, the church has worked to provide seeds to elderly residents who can still tend to gardens. This small but powerful act not only provides sustenance but restores dignity and purpose to those who might otherwise feel helpless. Likewise, local farmers struggling with drought and financial hardship receive targeted support to continue cultivation.
Across the last three years, the Reformed Church in Transcarpathia, its Diaconal Coordination Office, and its community have welcomed 25 solidarity visits involving 27 partners with hospitality and fellowship. Each time there is something new to help those in need, a new project or service is undertaken in their service as faithful stewards of God’s grace. There is constant exploration and transformation within the community.
Every time I leave Transcarpathia, it is only physically. The spirit of the community—the ingenuity, the resilience, the devotion—clings to me like a second skin. I carry it in my breath, in my heartbeat, in the rhythm of my steps. It is a song that does not fade. It is a hymn of unity, perseverance, strength, and ardent faith. I cannot now recall how it felt when such piercing harmonies of service and mission, of discipleship and action, were not etched upon the tablet of my heart.
As a result, I have found myself considering the phrase “I am doing the best I can with what I have” not as a balm, as it was in the past, but as a question—a challenge. A whisper from the depths of my conscience asking: What is my best? And what do I truly have?
I have struggled with this question myself. As a young person, as a woman, as an outsider in a new land, I often feel unqualified. But the scripture does not ask for qualifications. It does not require certainty. It simply calls us to use whatever gifts we have received in whatever way we can.
In times of uncertainty, when chaos pounds at the door, we do not answer with a weary “I am doing what I can” and hope it takes the hint and leaves. No. We throw the door open. We stare uncertainty in the face, and we invite it in—not as an intruder, but as a guest. We pour it a coffee. We sit with it. We ask it questions. And when it tries to frighten us into paralysis, we do not cower. We listen. And then we get to work. This is what we must do.
I would add a second part to this phrase: “Do the best you can with what you have, where you can.” We are all called to affect change in our communities. As stewards of God’s creation, as disciples of Christ, we are charged with being creative and faithful in our search for transformation. We do not need to look far to take action. We are facing a critical time in our own communities. Uncertainty, difficulty, and injustice darken our doorstep—perhaps not in the same form as in Transcarpathia, but in the needs, the struggles, and the quiet crises that unfold around us. The call to serve is not limited by geography. It is as close as our neighbours, our churches, and our streets. The same faith and ingenuity that sustain Transcarpathia can inspire us to move beyond hesitation and act where we are with what we have.
The phrase “I am doing the best I can with what I have” is neither an excuse nor an escape. It is a call. A challenge. An invitation. It is not meant to pacify; it is meant to ignite. It is not a lullaby; it is a charge to action.
To invoke this phrase is to choose: will we settle for comfort, or will we embrace the discomfort and toils of growth? Will we use it as a shield against self-reflection or as a challenge to dig deeper? I choose the latter. And I hope, when we say it next, we all do. For me, I will let them ring differently, not as an end, but as a beginning.
Emma’s appointment with the Reformed Church in Hungary is made possible by your gifts to Disciples Mission Fund, Our Church’s Wider Mission, Week of Compassion, and special gifts. Make a gift that supports the work of Margaret Emma Perry