Hey friends,
Before we begin today’s reflection, I would like to extend a sincere thank you to everyone who read last week's post—over 80 people took the time to open and read it, which is incredibly humbling. I’m grateful for the chance to share a quiet corner of the porch with you each week.
Now, let’s sit a spell and talk about something I think we all need to hear:
You don’t have to be on all the time.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve felt that pressure.
The pressure to perform.
To have it together.
To always be available, kind, sharp, funny, spiritual, insightful, engaged... awake.
To be “on.”
You see, I am an introvert who, by the nature of my calling, has to be extroverted much of the time. Sometimes it feels like if I take a breath or unplug for a moment, everything might fall apart—or worse, that people might be disappointed in me.
Whether you’re a parent, pastor, teacher, leader, or just a human being trying your best, you’ve probably felt it too.
There’s a kind of cultural addiction to being constantly “on.” Hustle. Grind. Push. Post. Smile. Pretend. Repeat. And it can be loud—even when no one’s saying it out loud.
A few months ago, I had one of those days where everything in me wanted to shut down.
I was tired. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to plan another thing. I didn’t want to hold anyone else’s emotions. I just wanted to be quiet.
But instead of letting myself rest, I pushed through. I wore the smile. Took the call. Led the meeting. Said yes when my soul was begging for a no.
And the next morning?
I was angry. Exhausted. And worse—I was ashamed of how burned out I felt.
Why?
Because somewhere along the way I’d come to believe that taking a break meant I was failing.
But here’s the truth I’ve been learning the slow, hard, grace-filled way:
Jesus doesn’t expect you to be on all the time.
In fact, He modeled something very different.
“But he would withdraw to desolate places and pray.”
—Luke 5:16 (ESV)
Jesus—who carried the weight of the world, who healed the sick and preached to thousands—regularly stepped away.
He didn’t apologize. He didn’t announce it. He didn’t perform His rest.
He simply withdrew.
He knew the work was important—but He also knew that presence requires pause. That strength requires solitude. That ministry requires margin.
When we push ourselves too far, even though we think we’re doing it for the right reasons, we are less useful to anyone and less rested in Christ Jesus. We’re better parents, better spouses, better friends, better followers of Jesus when we make time to slow down.
I wonder how much healthier we’d be if we stopped trying to impress each other with our stamina and started quietly honoring our limits.
I wonder how much more peace we’d feel if we stopped fearing we’d be forgotten the moment we stepped off stage.
I wonder how much deeper our faith would grow if we actually believed we were loved even when we’re tired, even when we’re unavailable, even when we’re not “on.”
You are not your productivity.
You are not your performance.
You are not your public image.
You are loved.
You are held.
And you are allowed to rest.
Porchside Update ☕
This is just a little space at the bottom of the porch for those who want to linger a moment longer.
This past week has been full around here. We kicked off our Wednesday night Bible study on the book of James, and had a great turnout—including a couple of folks who were new to our midweek Bible study. God’s been stirring something in our little congregation, and I’m genuinely excited about where it’s heading.
Also—my kids finished another school year! Our house is now in full summer chaos mode. (Parents, you get it.)
And I’m hoping Christina and I can be more intentional this summer about making space for each other, not always an easy task as you may well understand. Life is busy, but we’re trying to find simple ways to slow down.
One more thing…
If this post encouraged you, would you consider sharing it with a friend or two? That helps more than you know.
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Thanks for making space each week to read, reflect, and breathe.
See you next week—hopefully a little more rested.
Grace & Peace,
—Adam
Thanks for sharing your story and perspective. I had to learn these lessons the hard way, and my leadership, ministry, and family experienced the fallout - not because of moral failing, but because my body finally "broke." Here's the story in summary - https://stanleyjward.substack.com/p/trying-to-control-everything-is-exhausting?r=pz298
Thanks, Adam. Rest has always been a challenge for me in ministry. I (mostly) love the work. I still probably have some artifacts of works-righteousness lingering in my soul. And I've never been one for hobbies. But the Lord has been gracious and patient with me, giving me rest when I needed it (whether I wanted it or not). Thanks for reminding us that rest is a good, healthy, even spiritual act.