Practical Help for Trying to Hope in Jesus Christ When You’re Exhausted

There is tired, and then there is TIRED.

I know what it is to need sleep, to have too much on my calendar, to be annoyed with my children, to look at my bank account and immediately need Jesus. That kind of tired is part of being alive.

But I also know what it feels like when tired settles into your body. When getting up feels harder than it should all.the.time. When the things you normally care about stop pulling you toward them. When you know what the Word says, you know God is good, you know you should probably pray, get moving, do something, and you just...don’t know how. Or you know, and just don’t want to.

For me, that was depression.

DEPRESSION?! (that was in all caps.) Girl…depression.

As always, I’m working, running three businesses, raising two kids, managing a church department, being a friend, having a life. At the time, I was still caught up in court and dealing with what felt like the forever-lingering aftermath of my divorce. There had been so much happening for so long that I think part of me had gotten used to functioning in the middle of a plane crash.

Eventually, functioning got harder. The plane was going down fast, and I couldn’t keep my laptop open while typing anymore.

I stopped working on OMI.

And that came with its own layer of shame because imagine building an entire brand around hope and then feeling like you cannot figure out how to feel hopeful about your own life. I had put all this work into telling people hope lives, hope is here, hope has a Source, and meanwhile I was struggling to access any of that emotionally for myself.

I never felt suicidal, and I thank God for that. But that season made it much easier for me to understand how somebody could get there. There is a particular exhaustion that comes from feeling like life keeps hitting you and you keep getting back up because that is what you are supposed to do. But Eventually you start wondering how many more times you have to get back up.

My therapist suggested medication. She was clear that she thought my depression was situational and the meds could be temporary, but that didn’t stop the spiral.

That introduced another whole new conversation with the different levels of hesitation and acceptance among my parents and family, my friends, my pastor and, if I am being fair, me. Faith was part of how I understood my life. So I had to work through what it meant to believe Jesus could heal me while also accepting that I might need help that came through pills.

I did take the medication. I am not on it anymore, but the medication absolutely helped me jumpstart feeling like myself again.

And I don’t think that competes with my faith.

I thank God for my therapist. I thank God for the medication. I thank God for the people who stayed close to me. And I thank God that eventually the circumstances that had felt endless started changing too.

But feeling like myself again did not turn me into somebody who never gets tired.

I still, often, have tired days. Tired weeks. Sometimes tired months. I can still wonder why Jesus allows certain things to happen. I can still encounter things that stump my faith. Sometimes those things are serious. Sometimes it is my bank account. Sometimes it is my children acting like Jack-Jack after somebody turned their back for three seconds. Sometimes it is Honor explaining something to me with the confidence of a tenured professor who has apparently been studying the subject for 30 years. Sometimes it’s work. Sometimes it’s clients. Sometimes it’s my brain in overdrive.

Hope did not make me immune to life.

But I understand a little better what I need when life keeps knocking me down and I know I should get up, but getting up feels harder than it sounds.

Here are three things that help me.

1. Learn the difference between tired and TIRED

Sometimes you need a nap.

Sometimes you need a psychiatrist. You need a friend. You might need an endocrinologist. You might need somebody to help you figure out why your body or your mind has been waving a flag for months…and why you’ve been ignoring it.

I think Christians can be particularly good at spiritualizing things we should also pay attention to practically. We pray harder. We tell ourselves to be grateful. We quote scripture. We assume we need more discipline.

And more often than not we need that.

But sometimes something is actually wrong.

For me, one of the most important things my therapist did was help me recognize that what I was experiencing wasn’t simply, You’ve had a rough week, get some rest.

The exhaustion had started changing how I experienced my life.

I don’t think every difficult season means someone is depressed, and I’m certainly not telling anybody that they need medication. I am saying that knowing Jesus does not mean you have to ignore what is happening in your mind and body.

If you’ve been saying, I’m just tired, for months, pay attention to what you mean.

Are you still enjoying things?

Are you withdrawing from people?

Are basic responsibilities becoming unusually difficult?

Do you feel like yourself?

Has someone who knows you well noticed a change?

Maybe the next faithful step is telling somebody the truth about how hard the days have become.

Getting help was not me abandoning hope in Jesus.

It was one of the ways I stayed here long enough to feel hope again.

2. Make the day smaller

I need you to know I am giving you this advice as someone who is terrible at it.

I overthink consistently.

Give me one problem at 8:00 a.m. and by 8:17 I have considered its implications for my children, my career, my finances, the next five years and potentially the entire trajectory of my life.

Jesus had something to say about that.

In Matthew 6, He talks about worrying over what we will eat, what we will drink and what we will wear. Then He says:

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.”
Matthew 6:34, NLT

Tomorrow already has enough going on. UGHHHHHHHHHH, hate that for us!

But when you’re exhausted, tiredness has a way of making you carry everything at once.

What if this doesn’t get better?

How long can I keep doing this?

What happens next month?

What about the kids?

What if the money doesn’t come?

What if God doesn’t fix it the way I need Him to?

Meanwhile, it is Tuesday morning. And Wednesday will come with its own things; worry about Tuesday—that’s what’s here.

Sometimes hope needs a much shorter time horizon.

What do I need to do today?

Actually, what do I need to do before lunch?

The answer might be to send one email. Eat something. Go to the appointment. Pick up the kids. Pay the bill I can pay. Leave the other three problems where they are because I cannot solve them today anyway.

Making the day smaller doesn’t mean pretending the bigger problems aren’t real.

It means refusing to make yourself survive every possible future before it gets here.

You may not have enough strength for the next six months.

You may have enough for today.

Start here.

3. Borrow somebody else’s strength

One of the biggest lies exhaustion tells you is that you should be able to handle yourself by now.

Especially if you are the person people usually call.

Especially if you know the Bible.

Especially if you’ve been through hard things before.

Especially if you have literally built a brand about hope.

There were times when I did not need somebody to explain God to me. I knew who He was.

I needed somebody to help me believe what I already knew.

I needed my therapist.

I needed friends.

I needed family.

I needed my pastor.

Sometimes I needed somebody to pray when I didn’t have much to say. Sometimes I needed somebody to listen without trying to turn the conversation into a lesson. Sometimes I needed somebody else’s perspective because mine had gotten small.

Or much, much too big.

Sometimes your mind is not stuck on one small problem. Sometimes it is trying to solve your whole life in one hour.

Faith is lived in community for a reason.

Sometimes your friend has enough optimism for both of you.

Sometimes somebody else remembers what God has already brought you through when you cannot access that memory emotionally.

Sometimes they bring dinner.

Sometimes they sit beside you.

Sometimes they tell you, You don’t sound like yourself. I think you need more help than I’ve been able to give you.

Let them. Listen to them.

Borrow somebody else’s strength until yours starts coming back.

Hope is not me maintaining a spiritually impressive attitude while everything falls apart.

Hope is not never questioning Jesus.

I still have questions. There are things God has allowed that I do not understand. There are things I have prayed about that did not change when I wanted them to. There are circumstances that can still make me look toward heaven like, Okay...and what exactly are we doing here?

But my hope is not that I will always understand what Jesus is doing.

My hope is Christ.

That is different.

I can be tired and still trust Him. I can need therapy and still trust Him. I can take medication and still trust Him. I can get frustrated, overthink, cry, ask questions, need my friends, have a terrible week and still trust Him.

Sometimes hope looks like getting back up.

And sometimes, when life has knocked you down enough times, hope looks like admitting:

I want to get back up. I just need some help doing it this time.

And I know Jesus can meet us there too.

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note on lowercase styling:

you may notice that “God” and “Jesus” appear in lowercase throughout the site. this isn’t a sign of irreverence—it’s simply a design default. the lowercase aesthetic reflects the tone and visual style of the omi brand, not the weight of the One being referenced. trust—His name is still above every name, and that’s honored here. (philippians 2:9)