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A few days ago, I was feeling really tired. Not just busy-tired, but tired-tired. Soul tired. Tired on the inside.
As an early bird, two night outs, plus a 60+ hour work week, nearly got the best of me. I reached Saturday with an ache in my back, a pounding in my head, and a growling in my stomach. When did being thirty feel so old?
Throwing off the covers and making my way to the bathroom, I didn’t need a mirror to show me the bags under my eyes and wrinkles on my forehead. I felt them. Deeply.
Because no matter how old we are, what we look like, or how many things are on our to-do lists or agendas, we all get worn down. We’re so worn down from things like class, sports, work, studying, and relationships that prayer, Church, and even reading our Bibles can start to feel more like a checklist. Stress consumes us to the point that we can’t even focus on what really matters.
On the outside, we’re running, and running, and running. But on the inside, we’re cracking wide open: From the pressure to perform. Be faithful and functional. Be happy and okay. We feel heavier than “adulting” ever told us we would be.
Here’s the good news: Struggling with anxiety, depression, or burnout (or any mental health challenge, for that fact) doesn’t mean you’re failing God. It means you’re human. A beautiful human navigating the high’s and lows of life’s anxious moments and everything in between.
Do You Need to Redefine Hope?
For many of us, I think we tend to see hope amidst this tiredness as:
-positive vibes
-praying harder so pain disappears
-wishful thinking
-ignoring your limits
-or believing everything will be okay once we graduate, get the job, or reach the next milestone
Much of the hope we’re offered is circumstantial—it only works as long as life does. The reality is that biblical hope doesn’t equal denial or getting everything you want. Biblical hope doesn’t promise a pain-free life. Biblical hope is anchored in endurance. It’s a belief that withstands even the strongest storms. Because hope doesn’t deny the storm. It knows and trusts that the storm doesn’t get the final word. And if hope feels hard right now, it might be because of what you’re already carrying.
In life, all of us carry around jars. These jars represent our emotional, mental, physical, relational, and spiritual space. All of us have limited time and space. But it’s not necessarily the jars that cause problems. It’s what fills us. Deadlines, family expectations, comparison, church pressure, unhealed grief, anxiety, depression, and relationships, the list goes on and on. Like pebbles and pieces of mud and debris added to our jars, we’ve quickly got a muddy mess on our hands. Not only is the jar now cluttered, but it’s also heavy. Priorities become confused, and everything is too much to handle. Can you relate?
In and of itself, none of these things is sinful. But they’re weighty. Really weighty, like a set of 50-lb dumbbells, you think you can pick up, but really can’t. And when they pile up, they take up space. When we’re this full, we often feel numb and overwhelmed. Think about a few things that are currently overwhelming you. What’s been filling your jar?
Sadly, a lot of us think hope, at least in a true or effective sense, means dumping everything out and starting fresh.
Maybe we’ve believed:
- “If I trust God enough, I won’t struggle.”
- “Strong Christians don’t need therapy.”
- “Struggling means my faith is weak