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.