Give Me the Strength to Change the Things: Why the Serenity Prayer is Harder Than It Looks

Give Me the Strength to Change the Things: Why the Serenity Prayer is Harder Than It Looks

We’ve all been there. You're staring at a situation that feels like a brick wall—a dead-end job, a relationship that’s curdled, or maybe just a habit that’s been dragging you down for a decade. You whisper it or scream it: give me the strength to change the things I can. It sounds simple. It’s on coffee mugs. It’s on cross-stitched pillows in your grandmother's guest room. But honestly? It’s probably one of the most misunderstood psychological frameworks in existence.

Most people think of the Serenity Prayer—penned by theologian Reinhold Niebuhr around 1932—as a passive plea for peace. It’s not. If you actually look at the history of those words, they were written during a time of global upheaval, specifically the rise of fascism and the lead-up to World War II. This wasn't about sitting on a yoga mat. It was about the grit required to face things that seem impossible to move.

The Psychology of Agency

When you ask for the strength to change something, you’re really talking about "agency." In psychology, specifically within Social Cognitive Theory developed by Albert Bandura, agency is the capacity to exercise control over the nature and quality of one's life. It sounds fancy, but it basically means believing that your actions actually matter.

The problem is that our brains are wired for something called "learned helplessness." Martin Seligman’s famous (and frankly, kind of depressing) research showed that when animals—and humans—feel like they have no control over negative outcomes, they eventually stop trying altogether. They just lie down. Even when the door to the cage is opened later, they often won't leave. They’ve lost the "strength to change."

Breaking that cycle isn't just about willpower. It’s about neuroplasticity. You have to literally re-wire your brain to recognize opportunities for action.

Why We Get Stuck in the "Things I Cannot Change"

There is a weird, dark comfort in things we can’t change. If a situation is truly out of your hands—like the weather or the global economy—then you don't have to feel guilty about it. You’re a victim of circumstance.

But here’s the kicker: we often miscategorize things to protect our egos. We say, "I can't change my career because the market is bad," when the reality is "I'm terrified of interviewing and failing." By putting a "cannot change" label on something, we avoid the terrifying vulnerability of trying and coming up short.

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Niebuhr’s original version of the prayer actually used the word "courage" instead of "strength." Courage is a very different animal. Strength implies a certain level of muscle or capacity, but courage implies that you are terrified and you’re doing it anyway. You need that courage to sift through your life and honestly identify what is actually moveable.

Identifying the Moveable Objects

So, how do you know if you're dealing with a brick wall or a curtain you just haven't pulled back yet?

Look at the "locus of control." People with an internal locus of control believe they are the primary architects of their fate. People with an external locus of control blame the stars, their boss, or their upbringing. Now, the truth is usually somewhere in the middle. You can’t control your DNA, and you can’t control the fact that your boss is a jerk. But you can control your response, your boundaries, and your exit strategy.

If you are asking for the strength to change the things that are currently making you miserable, you have to start with the smallest possible unit of change.

Consider the "Kaizen" philosophy from Japanese manufacturing. Instead of trying to overhaul a massive, failing system overnight, you look for 1% improvements. If you want to change your health, don't start by training for a marathon. Start by drinking one more glass of water. It sounds cheesy, but it builds the "efficacy" muscle that Bandura talked about. Once you prove to yourself you can change a tiny thing, the big things don't look so immovable.

The Biological Cost of Static Situations

Living in a situation that needs to change—but doesn't—is physically toxic. Chronic stress is what happens when the body stays in a "fight or flight" state for months or years. Your cortisol levels stay spiked. Your immune system takes a hit.

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According to the American Psychological Association, chronic stress is linked to the six leading causes of death. When you feel like you lack the strength to change your environment, your body essentially starts eating itself. This is why the search for this "strength" isn't just a spiritual or emotional journey; it’s a medical necessity.

Real Talk: When Strength Isn't Enough

Sometimes, you have the strength, but you’re pushing against the wrong wall.

There’s a concept in economics called "sunk cost fallacy." It’s why we stay in bad movies until the end or keep pouring money into a car that’s clearly a lemon. We think, "I've already put so much into this, I have to make it work."

But the "strength to change" often means the strength to walk away.

I knew a guy who spent ten years trying to "fix" a toxic family dynamic. He read every book, went to every therapy session, and practiced every "I feel" statement in the book. He was strong. He was persistent. But he was trying to change people who didn't want to change. His breakthrough came when he realized that the "thing" he needed to change wasn't his family—it was his proximity to them.

That is the "wisdom to know the difference" part of the equation.

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The Role of Community and Support

Independence is overrated. Seriously. The idea that you have to find the strength within yourself, alone, in a vacuum, is a recipe for burnout.

If you look at organizations like Alcoholics Anonymous, where the Serenity Prayer is a cornerstone, the whole point is that the strength is shared. You lean on a sponsor. You lean on the group. In sociology, this is called "social capital." When you’re around other people who are also trying to change their lives, it creates a "contagion effect." Growth becomes the norm rather than the exception.

If you're struggling to find the strength to change the things that are weighing you down, look at your circle. Are you surrounded by people who profit from you staying exactly as you are? Because if you change, it might force them to look at their own lives, and that makes people uncomfortable.

Practical Steps for Real Change

Stop waiting for a lightning bolt of inspiration. It’s not coming. Action creates motivation, not the other way around.

  1. Audit your complaints. For one week, write down every time you complain about something. At the end of the week, mark each one with a "C" (can change) or a "U" (unchangeable). Be brutally honest. If you complain about the traffic, that's a "U"—unless you change your commute time or move.
  2. The 5-Minute Rule. If there is something you need to change, commit to working on it for exactly five minutes. Want to write a book? Five minutes of typing. Want to clean a hoarded garage? Five minutes of sorting. Usually, the "strength" shows up once the momentum starts.
  3. Redefine "Strength." Sometimes strength looks like a loud "No." Sometimes it looks like a quiet "I'm done." Stop thinking of strength as just "bearing the burden" and start thinking of it as the power to shift the burden.
  4. Identify the "Secondary Gain." Ask yourself: "What do I get out of staying the same?" Maybe it’s sympathy. Maybe it’s the comfort of the known. Once you identify the hidden benefit of your misery, it loses its power over you.
  5. Change the Inputs. If you want to change the output of your life, you have to change what’s going in. This means the media you consume, the food you eat, and the people you talk to. You cannot build a new house with the same rotten wood from the old one.

The reality of asking for the strength to change the things you can is that it requires a terrifying level of responsibility. It means admitting that, while you aren't responsible for everything that happened to you, you are responsible for what you do next. It’s a heavy lift. But the alternative—staying stuck in a life that’s too small for you—is a much heavier burden in the long run.

Start by changing one small thing today. Not tomorrow. Not when you feel "ready." Just one thing. That is where the strength begins.