A few days ago, I was feeling exhausted. Not just busy-tired, but tired-tired. Soul tired. Tired on the inside.
As an early bird, two nights out, 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 matter) doesn’t mean you’re failing God. It means you’re human—a beautiful human navigating the highs 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, we all carry around jars. These jars represent our emotional, mental, physical, relational, and spiritual space. We all 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, many of us think of hope, in a proper or effective sense, as 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
But healing rarely works like that.
A Biblical View of Hope
Psalm 34:18 tells us, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (NIV). Romans 15:13 adds “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope” (ESV).
Biblical hope doesn’t wait for you to be empty. It meets you when you’re already full. Why? Because this is fierce hope: It’s a hope that doesn’t erase what’s inside us, but enters anyway, and over time, it changes what overflows out of us. And what we continue to pour into ourselves shapes what spills out.
Thankfully, God can pour into us through ordinary means: community, counseling, Scripture, boundaries, rest, medication, you name it. I’m not one to box God in or say all how He can pour into our lives. But this I know to be true: Our God is boundless. And what He pours into our lives is always abundant and overflowing without measure. It’s like an all-you-eat buffet with unlimited seconds, or a soda pop fountain with endless refills.
Needing help doesn’t mean you lack faith; it means you’re letting God pour through people. People you were created to need. It also means you’re learning to lean on God more. And we see this throughout Scripture.
In 1 Kings 19, Elijah was so overwhelmed and exhausted that he asked to die. God didn’t ridicule Elijah for being burned out. He told him to sleep and eat, or the journey would be too much for him.
In numerous Psalms, David cried out to God from places of deep and dark depression. God didn’t judge David or ask him to feel the “joy of the Lord” when he was weary. No, He sat with him in his pain, but also helped him to remember the truth of His promises within those circumstances.
Even Jesus in the Garden sweat drops of blood from a condition called Hematohidrosis, a rare condition where blood oozes from the face, forehead, or nose, often triggered by extreme emotional stress, fear, or anxiety (National Institute of Health). When Jesus cried out to God, “My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?” Jesus suffered so we would never have to be alone in our suffering. God allowed this to happen because of His love, even if it didn’t look or feel like love in that moment.
And friends, when you’re burned out, weary, anxious, afraid, alone, depressed, or hurting, He’s with you. Not shooting lightning bolts from Heaven, but acting as only a loving Father would. Reminding you, “Hey, Ben, it might be smart to rest and eat some healthy food.” “Hey, Sarah, it’s okay to cry and tell me how you feel.” “Hey, Anna, I see that suffering and I’m with you, even when the pain persists.” “I love you, I see you, I care, and I’m here.”
An Invitation for Those Struggling to Hope
I don’t know what you’re walking through today, but I do know what it’s like to encounter hard times. To juggle three jobs, a relationship, friendships, stress, tests, and pressure. I remember those days.
But here are two questions I wish I had taken the time to reflect on:
1. What have you been pouring into yourself?
2. And what’s been spilling out?
As you wrestle with these questions, I want you to know that awareness isn’t failure; it's the beginning of care. Realistic hope. So, here’s my invitation to you this week if you’re struggling to hope:
1. Speak- Talk to God, a friend, a counselor, a family member, or a professor about what you’re experiencing. Share openly and honestly. Remember: Silence doesn’t protect you; it isolates you. And like a boiling pot of water, it will eventually bubble over if you don’t learn to manage it well.
2. Seek- Especially if you’re dealing with something heavy, come to understand that God can use counselors, mentors, medication, and community to help you heal. You don’t need to do it all at once, but take one small step toward something you think could help.
3. Stay- I know it sounds cliché, but sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is stay. Staying is not a weakness. It’s fierce hope in action. Stay in the community. Surround yourself with good people and don’t isolate. Find a church, small group, or activity you enjoy. Stay in the story. Don’t be ashamed of what you’re walking through, but learn to see how God might use it to help others over time. Stay alive even when the darkness closes in. Stay. Your life is worth it.
Allow Hope to Be Fierce
You don’t have to be empty for God to fill you.
You don’t have to be fixed for God to stay near.
As Hebrews 6:19 notes, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain” (NIV). And even in suffering, Lamentations 3:31-33 reminds us that God doesn’t reject or abandon His people forever, even if it feels that way at the moment. This doesn’t mean that God is necessarily causing our pain, but in it, may we learn to experience His great, never-ending, and unfailing love. “For He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone” (vs.33, NIV).
If you’re struggling, I want you to know that you’re not a burden. You’re not alone. You’re not behind. You’re not an evil Christian for the way you feel, or the anxiety that won’t leave your mind.
But you also don’t need to solve anything. You don’t need to overhaul your life tonight, tomorrow, or even the next day. Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater, or in this case, don’t throw the entire jug of water out with the jar. Just notice what God might be gently pouring in. Be aware.
Fierce hope isn’t loud or flashy, but it is brave, and choosing to stay. And to quote my good friend and poet, Tanner Olson, “Hope is not this like soft thing. Hope is fierce. Hope is resilient. It’s a force, but it’s not forceful. Hope isn’t that I have all the answers. Hope is knowing everything will be okay, even if not everything is okay right now.”
Hope can look like saying “I need help,” or “I’m not okay.” It can mean going to counseling or helping someone who needs it get the help they need. Fierce hope can look like taking meds if you need them, or setting boundaries. It’s choosing to stay on the hardest days. Because hope isn’t fragile, it’s fierce. And if all you can do tonight is stay. That’s enough. It’s always more than enough.
Photo credit: GettyImages/olegbreslavtsev
