Still Weary? A Gracious Pathway Out of Survival Mode
“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”—Heb. 12:1-2 (ESV)
Over the past few posts, we’ve explored what lies beneath our survival mode—the heart postures that can drive us, the grace of God that invites us into rhythms of rest, and how to walk faithfully when the hardships don’t let up.
Maybe you’ve read along, nodded in agreement, even longed for change… and yet, here you are. Still weary. Still stretched thin. Still in it.
If that’s where you find yourself today, this post is especially for you. Not to burden you with more to do—but to envision a next step, rooted in grace, and anchored in hope.
Why We Stay Stuck
Sometimes it’s not just our circumstances that keep us stuck—it’s our expectations, assumptions, and deeply held beliefs. Here are a few that may unwittingly shape our experience without us even realizing it:
We assume rest is only for when things ease up, not while we’re still in the thick of it.
But the invitation to come to Jesus is for the weary and burdened now—not later (Matt. 11:28–30). Biblical rest isn’t just about naps and vacations. It’s about learning to finding our peace and strength as we turn to Christ while the waves still crash (Mark 4:37–40).
We feel guilty for needing rest.
Guilt keeps us going when grace calls us to stop. But rest can feel selfish—especially for ministry-minded, sacrificial people. But Jesus Himself invited His disciples to rest (Mark 6:31). And He Himself often withdrew to lonely places to pray (Luke 5:16). Our need for rest is not a flaw to fix, but a design to honor.
Our expectations haven’t changed.
We often carry into a hard season the same pace, standards, and pressures from our easier ones. But God knows our frame (Ps. 103:14). He doesn’t demand more than He provides for. When Elijah collapsed under the weight of ministry burnout, God didn’t scold him—He gave him rest and food (1 Kings 19:5–8). Are you still expecting yourself to be in “full function” mode when your soul is in survival mode?
We forget that faithfulness is sometimes quiet, small, and hidden.
In our culture of productivity and performance, it’s easy to equate impact with visibility. But Jesus praised the widow’s two coins (Mark 12:41–44), the cup of cold water given in His name (Matt. 10:42), and mustard seed faith (Matt. 17:20). Survival faith—clinging to God when you have nothing left—can be another way to honor Him.
What You Can Do Now
When you feel stuck, the way forward isn’t to push harder. The road out of survival mode rarely begins with sweeping life changes.
Instead, start by taking one small step of faith at a time. These steps form a pathway—not a checklist—but a way to gradually reorient your heart and life toward God’s sustaining grace.
Step 1: Start where you are – rest in the thick of it.
You don’t have to wait for a break to begin breathing again. When we’re overwhelmed, the tasks before us can blind us to God’s greater sovereignty. Starting with even one quiet minute can begin to recalibrate our hearts toward Christ.
So pause—right where you are—and pray, “Lord, be near to me in this very moment.” You can do this while waiting on the phone, prepping a sermon, or caring for a loved one. Sometimes breathing slowly can help or playing a hymn like It Is Well With My Soul can help your heart return to Christ. The Lord over the storms brings His peace into even the most chaotic spaces.
Step 2: Quiet the guilt – receive rest as a gift.
Rest isn’t selfish—it’s an invitation to remember who we are before the Lord. When we worship, we’re reminded that we are frail, limited, and deeply dependent. Rest can become an act of worshipful obedience—a way to say, “Lord, I can’t keep going like this and still serve You well.”
Guilt says we’re doing something wrong. But acknowledging our limits isn’t wrong—it’s humbly recognizing our humanity. So entrust your responsibilities to God for a moment, and receive His gift: a short walk, a nap, a prayer, or a moment with a friend.
Step 3: Recalibrate your load – lay down false expectations.
When we welcomed our daughter home, I assumed we’d return to “normal.” But nothing fit quite the same in our familiar routines. I grew frustrated as our rhythms changed, but I hadn’t—and I couldn’t keep up.
Looking back, I needed to hear: It’s okay to adjust. God doesn’t ask why we’re slower or struggling—He remembers our frame (Ps. 103:14).
So try this: take 15 minutes to list everything you think you “should” be doing. Then ask: Lord, what have You truly entrusted to me in this new season? In faith, cross off those things that are not essential at this time and entrust them to Him. Trust that as time passes, they could be added back if the opportunity arises.
Step 4: Reframe your faithfulness – honor the hidden things.
It’s easy to believe faithfulness means doing more or making visible progress. But God delights in what’s done quietly, in secret (Matt. 6:4).
He sees all the ordinary things we do every day that others might overlook—formatting a bulletin, praying for your small group, washing dishes, feeding a newborn in the dark. These aren’t insignificant. Even these can be acts of worship.
What matters is not the size of the task, but the heart behind it. So when big goals feel out of reach, offer the small things as your daily worship. Thank God for the grace to do them—even when no one notices but Him.