A Rest-Filled Life Is Possible

If you’ve made it through Tired of Being Tired, first—well done. Not just for reading, but for being brave enough to take an honest look at your soul.

By now, we’ve named our exhaustion, challenged our hustle, confronted our inner critic, and accepted the invitation to live with more margin and less guilt. But here’s the truth I want you to carry into whatever comes next:

A rest-filled life isn’t just an idea. It’s possible.

I don’t mean a perfect life. I don’t mean a life where you never feel tired again. I mean a life where your tiredness doesn’t own you. A life where your value isn’t tied to your output. A life where you’re not just doing things for God—but actually being with Him.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I have what I need.” – Psalm 23:1 (CSB)

That verse is simple, but it holds everything. Because rest starts here: believing that we have what we need because we have Him.

I’m still learning this. I still catch myself slipping into old patterns. But more and more, I’m letting God’s grace slow me down. I’m learning to release expectations He never asked me to carry. And I’m learning that freedom isn’t found in finally getting everything done—it’s found in trusting the One who holds it all.

This book may be ending, but this journey isn’t. Keep fighting for margin. Keep listening for the Shepherd’s voice. Keep choosing rest, again and again.

Because you were made for more—and you don’t have to be tired forever.

Reflect:

• What truth from this journey do you want to carry with you?

• What rhythms of rest can you hold onto in the next season?

• Where are you still striving that God may be asking you to surrender?

You were made for more than burnout.
You were made to live led, loved, and at peace in your Father’s care.

Walking in Daily Freedom

There’s something beautiful and bold about the idea of daily freedom.

Not once-a-year retreat freedom.
Not when-the-kids-are-grown freedom.
Not when-I-finally-get-it-all-together freedom.

But everyday, in-the-middle-of-my-life kind of freedom.

This week, Jess reminds us that freedom isn’t just possible—it’s promised. But many of us don’t live like it. We carry the weight of every to-do list, every expectation, every unspoken standard we think we have to live up to. And when we do, we end up tired—not just physically, but spiritually, emotionally, and mentally worn thin.

I’ve had to ask myself often: What lies am I living under today that are keeping me from walking in the freedom Jesus already gave me?

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” – Galatians 5:1

There was a season when I’d get to the end of my day and feel like I had done a lot—but I hadn’t lived much. I was checking boxes, not enjoying the moments. I was managing life instead of walking in grace.

So I started asking God for fresh eyes each morning—not just to help me get through the day, but to help me receive what He had for me in it. I began to notice the joy in slow mornings, the sweetness of small conversations, and the peace that comes from letting go of what I can’t control.

Freedom doesn’t always look like big change. Sometimes it looks like deep peace in the middle of ordinary moments.

Reflect:

• Where are you still living under the burden of “not enough”?

• What would it look like to embrace freedom in this day?

• What could you release today that would allow you to rest?

You were made for more than just getting by.
You were made to walk in daily, Spirit-filled freedom.

Awake to What Matters

I used to say that my love language was “productivity.” It was like a drug to me. The more I got accomplished the better I felt. And I got pretty good at it. I was managing schedules, showing up where I needed to, checking all the boxes. But somewhere along the way, I stopped being present. I was awake physically, but spiritually? Emotionally? I was running on autopilot.

Jess calls this out so clearly: we can be productive and still spiritually asleep.

That truth hit me hard. Because I know what it’s like to be surrounded by good things and still feel numb. I’ve walked through seasons where I was doing all the right things, but missing the heart of it—because I wasn’t actually awake to what God was doing in me and around me.

“Wake up, sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” – Ephesians 5:14

This verse isn’t just poetic—it’s a call to attention. To stop sleepwalking through life. To tune our hearts back to His voice. To let the light of Christ shine into the places where we’ve gone dull or distant or disconnected.

For me, waking up has looked like learning to slow down long enough to notice what I’m feeling instead of pushing through. It’s looked like bringing my real self—not my polished self—into God’s presence. And it’s looked like asking the hard question:
What is God doing in me right now that I’ve been too distracted to see?

If you feel like you’re going through the motions, you’re not alone. But you don’t have to stay there. Jesus doesn’t just want your effort—He wants your heart, fully awake and fully His.

Reflect:

• Where have you been running on autopilot?

• What’s one small way you can become more aware of God’s presence this week?

• What’s He trying to wake you up to?

You were made for more than functioning.
You were made to live fully awake in the presence of a living God.

When God Feels Far and You Feel Empty

Let’s talk about the moments when God feels distant—even though you’re doing all the things to stay close.

I’ve had seasons when I was in the Word, serving faithfully, showing up with a smile—and still felt dry. Tired. Disconnected. And I wrestled with the shame of it. How could I feel this way when I knew better?

Jess names something in these chapters that resonated so deeply with me: Sometimes we’re spiritually tired not because we’ve stopped seeking God, but because we’re running ourselves ragged in our own strength trying to serve Him.

And wow, have I been there.

There was a stretch in ministry when I kept showing up, pouring out, doing my best to steward what God had given me—but underneath it all, I was numb. I was checking spiritual boxes but not connecting with the Person of Jesus. I had traded intimacy for performance and quiet for constant motion.

And the result? Exhaustion. Resentment. Emptiness.

“Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.” – Psalm 116:7

That verse feels like a deep breath to me now. It’s a reminder that rest doesn’t mean giving up—it means coming home. Coming back to the Source, not out of guilt, but out of grace.

This week is an invitation to get real about the spiritual exhaustion beneath the surface. To stop pretending we’re okay when we’re not. And to remember that even when God feels far, He isn’t.

He’s near. He sees you. And He’s not asking for your perfection—He’s inviting you to abide.

Reflect:

• Where are you spiritually worn out?

• Have you traded connection with God for activity for God?

• What would it look like to return to rest—body, soul, and spirit?

You were made for more than dry obedience.
You were made for a living, breathing relationship with your Savior.

Speak This Over Yourself:

I don’t have to earn God’s love—
I already have it.

I release the pressure to perform.
I return to rest.

I am not alone in my weariness.
God sees me, sustains me, and draws me near.

My worth is not in what I do—
it’s in who I belong to.

I choose connection over striving.
Stillness over hustle.
Grace over guilt.

I was made to abide—
and I breathe deeply in His presence today.

The Inner Critic Isn’t the Holy Spirit

There’s a moment in this week’s chapters where Jess says something that felt like she had been reading my journal. This week in Tired of Being Tired, Jess leads us to confront something that quietly fuels our exhaustion: the relentless voice of our inner critic.

You know the one I mean—the voice that tells you you’re never doing enough, that if you just tried harder or managed better, you’d finally feel at peace. The voice that doesn’t celebrate what you have done, but zeroes in on what you haven’t.

I’ve listened to that voice more times than I’d like to admit. It’s subtle and convincing. It hides under the mask of responsibility or even spiritual discipline. But here’s what I’ve learned (and continue to learn):
That voice is not the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit convicts, yes—but He never condemns. He leads with gentleness. He calls us to rest, not to run ourselves ragged.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus.” – Romans 8:1

I remember one specific evening when I felt like I had failed at everything—ministry, parenting, self-care, friendships. I sat on the couch defeated, mentally replaying all the ways I didn’t measure up that day. And in the quiet, the Lord spoke—not in shame, but in truth:
“I don’t love you because of your performance. I love you because you’re Mine.”

That truth silenced the critic.

This week is about giving ourselves permission to stop rehearsing our failures and start rehearsing God’s faithfulness. It’s about shifting from self-criticism to grace-filled awareness. Exhaustion isn’t just about physical depletion—it’s the weariness of carrying expectations God never asked us to carry.

Reflect:

• What does your inner critic sound like?

• What might God be saying instead?

• What would it look like to let grace speak louder this week?

You were made for more than mental noise and never-enough pressure.
You were made to walk in the quiet confidence of being fully loved.

Permission to Pause

This week, Jess Connolly introduces one of the most countercultural concepts we’ll face all summer: permission to pause.

In a world that prizes constant productivity and glorifies packed schedules, taking a pause can feel almost wrong—like you’re falling behind or failing. For much of my life, I believed that rest was reserved for people who didn’t have as much to carry. I believed (because I was told) that if I just worked hard enough, I could accomplish anything.

And that’s the stronghold that held me captive for a long time: the belief that I should be limitless.

It turns out—even if I could do anything, I can’t do everything. I am simply not limitless. And truthfully? I didn’t like that. At least, I didn’t used to.

Accepting my own human capacity and limitations has been one of the most transformative shifts in my life. I had to stop resenting my boundaries and start recognizing them as gifts. Boundaries that lead to margin. Margin that leads to peace. Peace that makes space for joy.

“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.” – Psalm 16:6 (CSB)

There is so much freedom in learning to live inside the lines God has lovingly drawn. He’s not holding us back—He’s holding us together. He never called us to do everything. He called us to do what He’s given us, with faithfulness and dependence.

And maybe that’s what this week’s reading is really about: dependence. Slowing down not as an act of laziness, but as an act of trust. A declaration that I don’t have to earn God’s love by accomplishing more—I can receive it because He already gives it freely.

Pausing isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. It’s a reminder that we’re human, and God is God. And we can breathe in the grace that comes with knowing the difference.

Reflect:

• Where do you feel like your limitations are getting in the way?

• What boundary has God given you that you’re learning to see as a blessing?

• How might He be inviting you to pause and depend on Him this week?

You were made for more than running on empty.
You were made to live with margin, rest, and grace inside the beautiful boundaries of His love.

What I Thought God Wanted

This week’s chapters in Tired of Being Tired confront a deeply rooted belief many of us carry—whether we realize it or not: God wants my performance.

I wouldn’t have said it out loud, but I lived like it. I thought that if I worked hard enough, said the right things, showed up for the right people, and never dropped a ball—God would be pleased with me. I wouldn’t have called it striving. I would’ve called it obedience, or even service. But really, it was performance.

And at some point, performance becomes exhausting.

I’m still in a season where I’m doing a lot of things—ministry, motherhood, friendships, church life. The calendar stays full, and the needs around me don’t slow down. But what’s shifted is my heart. I’ve learned that even in the middle of a full life, I can live from a place of connection instead of constant striving. I can work hard without hustling for approval. And that shift—choosing intimacy with God over performance for Him—has made all the difference.

When Jess writes about how we often try to prove ourselves to God instead of receiving from Him, I feel it deeply. She’s not asking us to work less—she’s inviting us to trust more. She’s inviting us to live out of connection with the Lord instead of constant activity for Him.

“Remain in Me, as I also remain in you… apart from Me you can do nothing.” – John 15:4–5

The more connected I am to Jesus, the less I feel the pressure to prove anything. And the more I rest in Him, the more fruitful—not frantic—my life becomes.

Reflect:

• Where have you been performing for God instead of connecting with Him?

• What would it look like to prioritize intimacy over activity this week?

• Are you living as a servant or as a daughter?

Let’s breathe deep this week. Let’s slow down long enough to remember that God never called us to burnout. He called us to abide.

You were made for more than performance.
You were made for a life connected to the heart of God.

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