Holy but exhausted

They see the prayers, the service, the smiles — but not the sighs behind

closed doors. They feel the anointing, but they don't hear the questions whispered in the dark; God, how long can I keep this up?"

This is for the ones who are *holy but exhausted*.

For the Sunday School teacher who shows up week after week, pouring

out with little poured back in.For the choir leader who sings heaven down but goes home battling depression.

For the youth president, juggling school, family, and ministry, trying not to

disappoint God or man.

For the ushers, pastors, intercessors, and media team who hold the church together — silently falling apart.

We were taught that serving God meant sacrifice — and it does. But no one warned us that it could also mean slowly bleeding in places no one sees.

Church culture often idolizes strength but forgets the cost.It praise consistency but overlooks the cracks forming underneath.

It demands availability but rarely checks for emotional or spiritual health.

Yes, we are holy — called, gifted, chosen.

But we are human too — tired, overwhelmed, sometimes one prayer away

from collapse.

It’s not that we don’t love God. It’s not that we want to quit.

But even Jesus paused. Even He withdrew from the crowd to rest, to cry, to

breathe.

So why don’t we?

The truth is, ministry burnout is real. And ignoring it doesn’t make us

more spiritual — it makes us more broken.

Dear church, stop assuming that the one always present is always okay.

Stop overloading the willing while the capable sit back and clap.

Stop over-spiritualizing exhaustion and start creating safe spaces for rest,

renewal, and restoration.

To the one reading this and crying silently:God sees you.

You are not weak because you 39 are weary.

You are not unfaithful because you 39 are tired.

And you are not alone.

Take a breath.

Take a break if you need to.

Jesus did — and He was still holy.

Let your healing begin.