When You Can’t Escape Survival Mode: Walking Faithfully With God in Overwhelming Seasons
“Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” —Psalm 61:1-2 (ESV)
If you’ve been reading through the past few posts and feel a pang of discouragement—as if your overwhelm is simply a failure to trust better or steward more wisely—please know this was not my intention. Some seasons are beyond our control. Illness, caregiving demands, ministry crises, and family burdens often come in relentless waves, leaving even the most faithful gasping for breath. These times have become your “new normal.”
Even the strongest believers and dedicated ministry leaders face seasons like this. So how do we walk faithfully with God—not to “fix” everything but to meet Him amid the chaos?
A Portrait of the Overwhelmed Helper
Meet David. He’s the kind of person everyone turns to in the church when needs arise: moving an elderly member, organizing care for a family in crisis, stepping in last-minute to cover duties. Though not paid staff, his role as a deacon keeps him deeply engaged.
At home, it’s no different. He makes time for his children’s projects and is the go-to person for family emergencies, big and small. Neighbors also lean on him for help.
If you ask him, David wouldn’t change a thing. God wired him to notice needs and respond. But lately, the weight has felt heavier. He’s bone tired. Sleep is interrupted. He snaps at loved ones and in prayer his mind drifts. He tells himself, “I just need to push through this season. It will ease up soon.” But part of him wonders, “What if this is my life now?”
Saints in Survival Mode
Maybe you’re like David. You care deeply and long to serve faithfully, but that desire has turned into an impossible demand. You’re weary—not because of failure, but because you’ve poured yourself out repeatedly. And the hits keep coming.
Overwhelm isn’t always sin or poor stewardship. Sometimes it’s the sheer weight of circumstances beyond control: chronic illness, caregiving, endless needs. Sometimes it’s the steady load of daily responsibilities—work, family, ministry. For those in ministry, it can feel like living the Good Samaritan life on steroids.
Like David, you didn’t choose these burdens—they found you. You said yes because you care, because God gifted you to notice and respond. Now you carry your own burdens plus others’ (Galatians 6:2). This ability reflects Christ’s heart, who felt the press of the crowds—healing, teaching, feeding (Mark 1:32-34).
And yet Jesus also withdrew to pray and abide with His Father before heading out again (Mark 1:35). He honored His humanity and limits because He knew His Father honored it. Likewise, He sees your exhaustion, remembers you are dust (Psalm 103:14), and knows your sleepless nights. He isn’t distant, telling you to push harder.
Instead, He draws near with compassion. He invites you—not to abandon responsibility—but to lay down the crushing weight of thinking it all depends on you. Peter reminds us: “Cast all your cares on Him, because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). This isn’t ignoring the load or sheer willpower; it’s bringing your full exhaustion into His presence.
Life is heavy—not because you’re weak or failing, but because of a fallen world groaning since Genesis 3 (Romans 8:20-22). Burdens come unbidden: disability, disaster, unending demands. You cannot control when others need help or when your strength fails.
But God sees, knows, and will not leave you alone (Psalm 34:19).
When the Weight Feels Too Heavy: A First Step
Perhaps you’re feeling bone weary, mind foggy, body drained, overwhelmed at the thought of “fixing” things. If so, take heart: God is not asking you to carry it all. He invites you to come to Him. Coming to Him is not just another task—it’s an invitation to rest even in weakness.
But this is hard. Overwhelm often drives us to react in unhelpful ways:
We freeze. The weight crushes us, so we shut down—scrolling or distracting ourselves because facing the problem feels too scary.
We flail. We jump into frantic activity—making endless lists, trying to “fix” everything, grasping for control to quiet anxiety.
We fume. We stew in frustration, blaming others, circumstances, or even God for the pile-up.
Each is a way we try to manage the heaviness ourselves. This is natural for us, even as believers. We act as though the burden and solution rest solely on us.
We often hesitate to turn to God—not because we don’t love Him, but because surrendering feels so vulnerable. Admitting we need help beyond ourselves can be hard. We resist because it means giving up control. We fear failure or wonder if God will truly provide.
But here is the good news: turning to Him doesn’t have to be dramatic. David Powlison points out that even the smallest movement toward God—a lifted glance towards Him instead of inward to yourself, a whispered “Help”—is a step of faith. It’s not about doing more, but leaning into the One who holds you.
Faithfulness in Your Season: Entrusted Callings and Limits
Remember this: you cannot do everything, nor does God ask you to.
Faithfulness isn’t about finishing every task or meeting every need. It’s doing what He gives you to do today and entrusting the rest to Him (Ephesians 2:10).
So, when it all feels like too much, start here: turn to God and ask, “Lord, what is mine to carry in this season…today?”
This question helps sort essential burdens from assumed ones. Here’s how faithfulness can look in different callings. As you read, ask the Lord to show you where He has placed you today.
If you pastor or shepherd others, your faithfulness is preaching, praying for your flock, shepherding gently without the false burden of “fixing” hearts. It is caring for your household (1 Timothy 3:4-5).
If you are raising children in demanding seasons, faithfulness means meeting daily needs and discipling their hearts in the fear and love of the Lord (Ephesians 6:4).
If you work outside the home, faithfulness is performing your duties diligently with integrity and cultivating kindness in relationships (Colossians 3:23).
If you live with chronic illness or disability, faithfulness might be stewarding your energy, offering small acts of prayer, and receiving help with humility (Galatians 6:2).
If you care for loved ones with special needs or illness, faithfulness includes daily care with love, entrusting their ultimate well-being to God, and seeking practical supports (Exodus 18:17-18).
What is the essential that remains after you strip away the non-essential? That’s where we focus our limited energy.
For When Faithfulness Still Feels Too Heavy
But what if you know what God has entrusted to you—and it still feels like too much? Here are three steps that have helped me in my own journey, as I’ve learned to live in survival mode that isn’t going away anytime soon:
1. Break Today into Smaller Portions of Faithfulness
When the weight of “doing this for the rest of my life” feels paralyzing, narrow your focus to just this moment. Jesus reminds us: “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matthew 6:34).
Ask: “Lord, what does faithfulness look like for the next hour? The next meal? The next bedtime routine?”
Remember: you are not asked to carry a lifetime of responsibilities all at once. You only need grace for the next step.
2. Entrust the “Extra” to God’s Hands
Overwhelm often comes not only from what God has given us, but from the many other things pulling at us. What can we do with those?
Write down the “extras” circling in your mind—the undone laundry, unanswered texts, even good desires you long to pursue but can’t right now.
Bring this list to the Lord and pray: “Father, I place these in Your hands for now. If they are for me later, bring them back in Your time. For today, let me do what You’ve placed in my hands.”
This isn’t dismissing those things—it’s acknowledging your limits and trusting God’s infinite care.
3. Build Small Retreats Into Your Rhythm
Faithfulness doesn’t mean unbroken activity. Even Jesus withdrew from the crowds to pray (Mark 1:35). Consider these:
Take a “micro-retreat”: Step outside for five minutes, read a single verse, breathe deeply, and whisper His name.
Pair physical care with spiritual refreshment: drink water and pray; take a short walk and recite Psalm 23.
Ask for help when possible—a friend or church member who can give you space to rest.
These small pauses aren’t selfish—they’re soul care that allows you to keep pouring out in Christ’s strength.
How God Met Me in the Middle
These simple practices were lifelines for me after we adopted our daughter and realized that what I thought was just a season of adjustment would be our new normal. In those early days, I often felt like I couldn’t keep going.
At first, I shut down—numbing my exhaustion with mindless scrolling and late-night Netflix. That only added to the strain. Then I swung to the opposite extreme, throwing myself into fixing everything on my own. I bounced between freezing, flailing, and fuming. It wreaked havoc in my heart and in our home.
Slowly, God began to draw me back. Those small movements toward Him—a whispered prayer, a verse read in the middle of the chaos—started to soften my hardened and hurting heart. As I practiced these little steps of faith, I began to reconnect with Him and sense His life-giving presence.
Over time, my perspective and choices began to change. I found courage to let others in, to share our situation with friends who came alongside to pray and support us. It was little by little, day by day. He faithfully worked with what I offered Him.
Our circumstances haven’t changed much in these ten years, but the Lord has. And He’s changing me.
A Closing Word of Hope
Your situation may not shift anytime soon either. But you don’t have to live in survival mode forever. Little by little, with Christ as your strength, you can take the next step of faithfulness—and find Him walking with you there.