I’m Tired of Being Strong: When Faithful People Reach the End of Themselves
There are times when I don't want another lesson in being strong.
I don't want someone to tell me how much I can handle.
I don't want to hear that everything happens for a reason.
I don't even necessarily want someone to tell me that tomorrow will be better.
Sometimes I am simply tired.
Tired of carrying things.
Tired of thinking about things.
Tired of trying to fix things.
Tired of praying about the same things.
Tired of waiting for answers that haven't come.
And perhaps the hardest part is that, as a Christian, I can sometimes feel as though I shouldn't admit that.
After all, aren't Christians supposed to have faith?
Aren't we supposed to trust God?
Aren't we supposed to have joy in every circumstance?
Yes.
But somewhere along the way, I think many of us started confusing faith with emotional invincibility.
The Bible doesn't.
Some of the most faithful people in Scripture became exhausted, discouraged, frightened, overwhelmed, and desperate.
They didn't stop belonging to God.
They simply reached the end of themselves.
And maybe reaching the end of myself isn't always the terrible place I imagine it to be.
Maybe sometimes it is exactly where I finally discover how much I have been trying to carry without Him.
Even Strong People Get Tired
One of the verses I come back to when life feels especially heavy is Isaiah 40:30:
"Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall."
Notice that Scripture doesn't say weak people become weary.
It says even the young become weary.
Even the strong fall.
Then comes this beautiful promise:
"But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."
— Isaiah 40:31
I used to read that verse mostly as a command to keep going.
Now I see something else.
God already knows I am going to become tired.
The promise isn't that I will never become weary.
The promise is that He can renew me when I do.
That changes everything.
I don't have to manufacture strength I don't possess.
I don't have to pretend to be fine.
I don't have to convince God that I can handle one more thing.
I can simply come to Him tired.
Elijah Had Just Experienced Victory—and Then He Fell Apart
One of the most comforting stories in the Bible to me is Elijah's.
In 1 Kings 18, Elijah experiences an extraordinary victory on Mount Carmel. God answers by fire. The prophets of Baal are defeated. The people declare that the LORD is God.
It is the kind of spiritual victory we might imagine would make someone fearless.
Then we turn one chapter.
Jezebel threatens Elijah's life.
And Elijah runs.
Eventually he sits underneath a juniper tree and says:
"It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life; for I am not better than my fathers."
— 1 Kings 19:4
Think about that.
This is Elijah.
The prophet who had just watched fire fall from heaven.
And now he is exhausted, afraid, isolated, and emotionally spent.
What I find especially beautiful is God's response.
God doesn't begin with a lecture.
He doesn't say, "Elijah, where is your faith?"
He lets him sleep.
Then an angel gives him food and water.
"Arise and eat; because the journey is too great for thee."
— 1 Kings 19:7
Those words have stayed with me:
The journey is too great for thee.
Sometimes the journey really is too much for me.
Maybe I need to stop treating that admission as spiritual failure.
God knew Elijah's limitations.
And God knows mine.
I Can Trust God and Still Be Tired
David certainly understood this.
He wrote:
"I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears."
— Psalm 6:6
That doesn't sound like someone pretending everything is wonderful.
David brought the truth to God.
His fear.
His frustration.
His anger.
His sorrow.
His questions.
His exhaustion.
And God still called David a man after His own heart.
That teaches me something important about prayer.
Prayer doesn't always have to sound polished.
Sometimes prayer sounds like:
"Lord, I don't know what to do."
Sometimes:
"Lord, I'm tired."
Sometimes:
"Lord, I thought this would be over by now."
Sometimes:
"Lord, I'm afraid."
Sometimes the most sincere prayer I can offer is:
"God, I need You."
And that prayer may contain more faith than a thousand carefully chosen words.
Jesus Never Asked Me to Carry Everything
I think one reason I become exhausted is because I pick up responsibilities God never gave me.
I try to control outcomes.
I replay conversations.
I imagine future disasters.
I worry about people I love.
I try to figure out tomorrow while surviving today.
I carry yesterday's regrets, today's responsibilities, and tomorrow's possibilities all at once.
No wonder I'm tired.
Jesus said:
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
— Matthew 11:28
He didn't say:
"Figure everything out and then come."
He didn't say:
"Become stronger first."
He didn't say:
"Stop struggling before you approach Me."
He said:
Come.
I sometimes make Christianity much more complicated than Jesus did.
When I am burdened, I am supposed to come to Him.
When I am confused, come.
When I am grieving, come.
When I am frightened, come.
When I'm discouraged, come.
When I've prayed the same prayer a hundred times, come again.
Some Burdens Were Never Mine to Carry
Peter wrote:
"Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you."
— 1 Peter 5:7
I love the word all.
Not some.
Not merely the "spiritual" worries.
Not only the major emergencies.
All.
The bills.
The diagnosis.
The marriage.
The child I'm worried about.
The decision I can't make.
The future I can't predict.
The mistake I can't undo.
The door that won't open.
The prayer that hasn't been answered.
The relationship I cannot repair by myself.
The situation completely outside my control.
I can place it in His hands.
That doesn't mean I stop caring.
It means I stop pretending I am God.
There are things I can do.
There are things I cannot do.
Wisdom means learning the difference.
Faith means trusting God with the part that belongs to Him.
Sometimes I Am Exhausted Because I Am Fighting Tomorrow Today
Jesus said something remarkably practical:
"Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself."
— Matthew 6:34
How much of my exhaustion comes from things that haven't even happened?
I can create entire disasters in my mind.
What if this happens?
What if that doesn't happen?
What if I lose this?
What if they leave?
What if the test comes back badly?
What if the money doesn't stretch?
What if things never change?
Before long, I have emotionally lived through twenty futures that may never occur.
Meanwhile, God's grace is being provided for today.
When tomorrow becomes today, there will be grace for that day too.
God gave Israel manna one day at a time.
Perhaps there is a lesson in that.
Sometimes He doesn't show me the entire road because He wants me to walk today's portion with Him.
"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path."
— Psalm 119:105
A lamp doesn't illuminate twenty miles ahead.
It gives enough light for the next steps.
Sometimes that is all I get.
And sometimes that is all I need.
Even Jesus Withdrew to Rest
Jesus understood physical limitations.
The Gospels repeatedly show Him withdrawing from crowds.
"And he withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed."
— Luke 5:16
There were always more people who needed healing.
Always more people who wanted answers.
Always another crowd.
Another demand.
Another need.
Yet Jesus withdrew.
That challenges me.
Because sometimes I act as though resting is irresponsible.
Sometimes I feel guilty saying no.
Sometimes I feel guilty doing nothing.
Sometimes I think productivity equals faithfulness.
It doesn't.
Jesus lived perfectly.
And Jesus rested.
That means rest cannot automatically be laziness.
Sometimes rest is wisdom.
Sometimes turning off the phone is wisdom.
Sometimes stepping away is wisdom.
Sometimes going to bed instead of solving the entire world at midnight is wisdom.
Sometimes sitting quietly with God is exactly what my soul needs.
Paul Learned That Weakness Could Become a Meeting Place With God
Paul pleaded with God to remove what he called a thorn in the flesh.
God didn't remove it.
Instead, He told Paul:
"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness."
— 2 Corinthians 12:9
That verse completely changes the way I think about weakness.
God didn't say:
"My strength is made perfect once you stop being weak."
He said His strength is made perfect in weakness.
Maybe weakness isn't always something I must escape.
Maybe sometimes weakness becomes the place where I finally stop depending upon myself.
Paul continued:
"For when I am weak, then am I strong."
— 2 Corinthians 12:10
That sounds contradictory until I've lived long enough to understand it.
There have been times when I thought I was strong because I had everything under control.
Then life reminded me how little control I actually possessed.
Those moments can be painful.
But they can also strip away the illusion of self-sufficiency.
Eventually I have to say:
"God, I cannot do this without You."
And maybe that sentence is not defeat.
Maybe that is faith.
God Doesn't Need Me to Pretend
Sometimes Christians become very good at saying, "I'm blessed."
And we are blessed.
But sometimes we say it because telling the truth feels uncomfortable.
I'm blessed—and I'm hurting.
I'm grateful—and I'm exhausted.
I trust God—and I don't understand what He's doing.
I believe—and sometimes I struggle.
Those things can exist together.
A father once cried out to Jesus:
"Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."
— Mark 9:24
Jesus didn't reject him for having imperfect faith.
He helped him.
That gives me enormous comfort.
God doesn't need me to manufacture some spiritually impressive version of myself.
He already knows me.
Psalm 139 says:
"O LORD, thou hast searched me, and known me."
— Psalm 139:1
God knows what I tell other people.
He also knows what I don't tell anyone.
He knows the thought that keeps circling my mind.
He knows the conversation I replay.
He knows the thing I'm afraid to say out loud.
He knows what keeps me awake.
He knows the weight behind the smile.
And I don't have to explain every detail perfectly before He understands.
Perhaps I'm Not Supposed to Be Strong All the Time
I've started wondering whether "being strong" has become a burden of its own.
Maybe God never intended me to walk through life saying:
"I've got this."
Perhaps the Christian life sounds more like:
God has me.
Those are very different statements.
One puts the weight on my shoulders.
The other places my life in His hands.
Psalm 46:1 says:
"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."
Notice whose strength it is.
His.
And just a few verses later:
"Be still, and know that I am God."
— Psalm 46:10
I don't have to be God.
I don't have to know everything.
I don't have to control everything.
I don't have to repair everything.
I don't have to predict everything.
I don't have to carry everyone.
There is only one God.
And thankfully, it isn't me.
When I Have Nothing Left
Maybe you are reading this while carrying something nobody knows about.
Maybe everyone sees you functioning.
Going to work.
Making dinner.
Answering messages.
Showing up at church.
Taking care of people.
Doing what needs done.
But inwardly you are saying:
"I don't know how much longer I can do this."
If so, I don't want to give you another burden disguised as encouragement.
I don't want to tell you to simply try harder.
I want to remind both of us where our help comes from.
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth."
— Psalm 121:1–2
My help doesn't ultimately come from my own determination.
My help comes from the Lord.
The One who created heaven and earth is not intimidated by the thing overwhelming me.
I Am Allowed to Need God
Perhaps that's what I most need to remember.
I am allowed to need Him.
Actually, I was created to need Him.
Jesus said:
"For without me ye can do nothing."
— John 15:5
Our culture celebrates independence.
Scripture teaches dependence upon God.
So maybe my exhaustion isn't always telling me that I need to become stronger.
Maybe sometimes it is telling me to stop.
To pray.
To rest.
To surrender.
To ask for help.
To release something.
To say no.
To stop fighting a battle God never assigned me.
To trust Him with something I cannot control.
To remember that I am a human being—not the Savior of the world.
We already have One of those.
Today, I Am Putting the Weight Down
I don't know what tomorrow holds.
There are still questions I can't answer.
There are still circumstances I would change if I could.
There are still prayers I'm waiting to see answered.
But today, I can choose not to carry tomorrow.
Today, I can give God the people I love.
The things I fear.
The decisions I don't know how to make.
The situations beyond my control.
The things I cannot fix.
The things that hurt.
The things that haven't happened.
And the things that already have.
I can say:
"Lord, this is too heavy for me."
And then I can remember His invitation:
"Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee."
— Psalm 55:22
Maybe I don't need another lesson in becoming stronger.
Maybe I need to remember where strength comes from.
And if today I am tired of being strong, perhaps that's okay.
Because my faith was never supposed to rest on how tightly I can hold everything together.
My faith rests in the One who holds me.
"My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever."
— Psalm 73:26
When my strength runs out, His does not.
And today, that is enough.
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