I’ll never forget the day I realized that I was not able to continue the way I was.
The time was past midnight, well after my family had gone off to bed. I was seated at my desk with sermon notes, emails that were not answered, and a growing sense of fatigue. For many years, ministry has been my passion, as well as my mission. That night, however, it was like the weight I was unable to carry anymore.
I’d put my energy into helping others: showing the way for their troubles, praying for their marriages, helping them navigate their grief. However, the moment my personal storm struck and my home literally fell apart, and my life was thrown into chaos, I was unsure of how to continue leading. I wasn’t sure how to stand.
The passion I once had for suddenly sounded too heavy.
When Leadership Feels Like a Burden
If you’ve led people, whether at a religious gathering, school, business, or your own family, you have experienced the pressures that come from the responsibility. People rely on you for direction, guidance, and answers. Most of the time, we’re delighted to offer them that.
But what happens if you’re the one who feels confused? What happens when the person who is encouraging is unable to keep going, the tough one is tired, and the leader is failing?
This was me. I was a lover of those I worked with; however, I was no longer able to summon the courage to share my love. And I wasn’t sure whether letting that be a sign of being inadequate, unfaithful, or insufficient to the position I was playing.
A while ago, I’d convinced myself that the best leaders never falter. The pastors should push on, smile, and continue to deliver even when their world is falling apart. I wore the mask for as long as I could.
The truth is that trying to appear strong has resulted in myself becoming weaker. Refusing to acknowledge my feelings of exhaustion did not make them go away. It actually widened the gap between me on the outside and what I really felt inside.
In the night that I finally acknowledged, “I can’t do this anymore,” Something unexpected took place. Instead of disqualifying my admission, it let me go.
Permission to Pause
One of the most difficult but most important lessons I’ve gleaned is that often the most reliable option is to stop. After I allowed myself to take a breath, I realized that God’s love didn’t depend on my performance. My worth wasn’t based on the number of sermons I gave, the number of people I coached, or how often I volunteered. Pausing didn’t mean I abandoned my calling. It was a sign that I acknowledged my humanity and made room for God to refresh me.
Another thing happened when I took a step back. My friends didn’t judge me because I was honest about my flaws. Actually, it opened the door to more intimacy.
I realized that ministry isn’t just about telling people how strong you are, but signaling them to the God who is capable of sustaining every one of us. When I opened up about my struggles with others, they felt at ease sharing their own. Then, our community was more about the present and less about the presence.
The experience showed me that leadership isn’t about never falling down, but about walking alongside people who are honest, with all their flaws.
For the Leaders Who Feel Tired
I am still adamant about my mission. However, I do it in a different way today.
I no longer view it as a burden I have to carry on my own. I’ve come to realize the importance of resting, the value of setting limits, and the ease of seeking assistance. I’ve realized that being resilient as a leader does not come from trying to appear unshakeable; it is the result of being grounded in God as well as being open about your challenges and open to change.
Perhaps the most important thing that I have discovered is that leadership isn’t just about being the hero, but the key is being a human.
You might be reading this, and you’re also a leader. Perhaps you’re a pastor, an employee, a parent, or a teacher. Perhaps, if you’re being honest, you’ve felt that your work has become more difficult and the burden is weighing you down, and that you’re not sure whether you’re able to continue carrying it.
If this is the case, I’d like to bring up something I would have liked to hear earlier: you don’t need to go and do it alone. You’re not failing simply because you feel exhausted. You’re not disqualified just because you’re tired. In reality, it’s in your weak points that God’s strength shines most brightly.
Final Thought
The moment I realized that my call was too heavy was the night that I realized God did not ask for me to take it all by myself. It was a real weight, but it was also God’s presence. And when I stopped playing around, I discovered something that was unimaginable–grace.
If you’re feeling tired under the weight of your personal call, I’d like you to know that you’re not alone. You don’t need to carry it in the same way. There’s a different way, one with a reputation for integrity, rest, resiliency, and renewal.
This is among the fundamental lessons I offer in my book. If your call is weighing heavily or if you’ve had a life event that has knocked your breath from you, I am convinced that this book will help you get back up and continue to move forward, but in a different way. Grab a copy for yourself today.
When the Calling Felt Heavy
There have been seasons where ministry felt heavier than I expected. I remember one night, sitting at my desk after everyone had gone to bed, with sermon notes scattered and unread emails piling up. I was tired. For years, ministry had been my joy and passion, but in that season, it felt more like weight than wind in my sails.
It wasn’t that I had lost my love for people or for Jesus. But when our home literally fell apart and ministry started unraveling at the same time, I found myself wondering how to keep leading others while feeling so weak myself.
When Leaders Feel Tired
If you’ve ever led anything—your family, your workplace, a classroom, or a ministry—you know that leadership carries pressure. People look to you for strength and direction. Most days, that’s a privilege. But what happens when you’re the one feeling worn down?
That’s where I found myself. Good leaders never falter? Pastors keep pushing, smiling, and carrying on no matter what? I discovered that pretending to be strong only makes you weaker. Admitting my exhaustion didn’t disqualify me, but it opened the door for God’s grace to meet me.
Permission to Pause
Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is stop. To pause. To breathe. My worth was never tied to how many sermons I preached, how many schools I led, how many nations I visited in the sake of the Gospel, or how many problems I solved. When I admitted that I was tired, my friends didn’t abandon me. In fact, it created space for deeper connection. Ministry was never meant to be about pointing people to my strength but to God’s anyway.
For the Tired Leaders
If you’re tired today, hear this: you’re not alone. Feeling exhausted doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It just means you need God’s strength in fresh ways. That’s part of what I share in my book Resilient Hearts. It’s not a manual on how to never fall, but a story of how God meets us when we do. If you need hope in your own season of struggle, I’d love for you to grab a copy and take that journey with me.