Naming Your Real Exhaustion

There’s a difference between being tired from a long day and being soul tired. You know that deep kind of weary that seeps into your bones and your spirit? The kind that makes you feel like you’re barely holding it all together, even when everything looks fine on the outside?

This week, Jess invites us to get honest about the source of our exhaustion. Sometimes it’s physical—but more often, it’s something deeper. A fractured identity. People-pleasing. A life that’s full but not fruitful.

That kind of tired can’t be fixed with a nap. It can’t be solved with a vacation. And it definitely can’t be numbed with more busyness.

I’ll never forget sitting in my therapist’s office, right on the edge of burnout. I had been pushing through for so long—leading, serving, showing up—until I just couldn’t anymore. My soul was frayed. And in one of the most eye-opening moments of that season, she looked at me gently and said,
“Bobi Ann, you have more drains than you have faucets.”

I knew immediately she was right. I was pouring out everywhere—with very little pouring in. I had been so committed to helping others meet Jesus that I forgot to sit with Him myself.

And maybe you’ve been there, too. Running on empty. Doing the right things with a dry heart. Trying to be everything for everyone and quietly resenting how heavy it all feels.

But here’s the good news: Jesus doesn’t expect us to live this way. He invites us to come to Him—not after we’ve fixed our exhaustion, but in the middle of it.

“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.” – Psalm 23:2–3

This kind of restoration doesn’t come from striving. It comes from surrender. And it begins with naming our real exhaustion. Not just saying “I’m tired,” but asking:

  • What’s actually draining me?

  • Where am I giving more than I’m receiving?

  • What lies am I believing that keep me from resting?

Jesus doesn’t shame us for being tired. He meets us in it—with compassion, not condemnation—and invites us to live differently.

So this week, take inventory. Identify your drains. Make room for some faucets. Say “yes” to one thing that restores you, and “no” to one thing that doesn’t.

You were made for more than burnout.
You were made for soul-deep rest.

When the Hustle Isn’t Holy

We’re kicking off our Made for More summer with a hard truth and a hopeful invitation:
You don’t have to hustle to be loved by God.

If I’m honest, this hits close to home. I’ve absolutely found myself hustling—not just to get things done, but to prove I was worth something. I’ve poured myself into ministry, motherhood, relationships, and responsibilities thinking that maybe if I worked hard enough, cared deeply enough, or showed up perfectly enough… I’d finally feel worthy. That I’d finally rest.

The irony? That hustle is actually the opposite of the very gospel I preach.

Jesus never asked me to earn His love or run myself into the ground for His approval. But there have been seasons when I teetered on the edge of burnout, when there was more resentment in my heart than joy in my spirit. And the most dangerous part? I was (at least claiming to be) doing it all “for God.”

Jess Connolly’s words in Tired of Being Tired feel like a gentle but firm wake-up call. We were never meant to live at the edge of exhaustion. We weren’t made to chase worth—we were made to walk in grace.

“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” – Matthew 11:28

That invitation isn’t just poetic—it’s deeply personal. Jesus invites the tired woman. The busy woman. The overwhelmed, overcommitted, over-it-all woman. And He doesn’t say, “Get it together, then come.” He simply says, come.

By God’s grace, I’ve learned to slow down. I’ve learned that rest isn’t weakness and margin isn’t selfish. It’s obedience. It’s trust. And it’s a declaration that I don’t have to prove why God should love me—because He already does.

So friend, as you begin this reading journey, be honest with yourself:

  • What kind of tired are you feeling?

  • Where have you believed the lie that you must earn rest?

  • How is God inviting you to trust Him with a slower pace?

This week, carve out just a few quiet minutes each day—not to be productive, but to breathe, reflect, and receive the love of God without conditions.

You were made for more than burnout.
You were made for holy rest.
Let’s begin this summer from that place