What My Burnout Taught Me About Grace
Two years ago, I hit a wall. You know that moment when you're juggling ministry, business, and family commitments like a pro, until suddenly – you're not? That was me. After twenty years of pastoring and work, I thought I had mastered the art of balance. Turns out, I had just mastered the art of running on empty.
The funny thing about exhaustion is how it sneaks up on you. One day you're fine, powering through your to-do list with a smile. The next, you're sitting in your car outside your house, too tired to even turn off the engine.
I used to think being tired was a sign of weakness. In our world of hustle culture and productivity hacks, admitting you're exhausted feels like confessing you're not good enough. But here's what burnout taught me: sometimes being tired is actually a gift. It's your body and soul telling you what your mind won't admit – that you were never meant to carry it all.
Grace doesn't always come as a sudden burst of strength to keep going. Sometimes it comes as permission to stop. To rest. To admit that you're human. Like Elijah in the wilderness, sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is simply eat, sleep, and remember that God's strength works best in our weakness.
I'm learning that admitting my limits isn't failure – it's freedom. Because in those moments when I can't keep going, when I've got nothing left to give, that's when grace shows up. And surprisingly, it doesn't demand that I get back up and try harder. It just whispers, "Rest. I've got this."