We bumped along the rust-colored road, braking for herds of cattle and unhealthily bold motorcycle taxis. Something about the strain around my friend’s eyes or the pitch of her voice reiterated weariness. But when I gently asked, she chirped something about how good it was to be burned out for the Kingdom.

I internally paused. Is it? Was Jesus burned out all the time? 

Truth: As a global worker, sometimes I didn’t only feel “used” by God in a good way. (Busyness tends to obscure beloved in my mind.)

Sometimes burnout arises simply from circumstances—like a weary Elijah after both the glory and gore of Mt. Carmel. Like him, I’ve seen God’s tenderness in sleep, in food, in creating space for a still, small voice.

In other seasons I…ignore the rest God wants me to take. He brings me to green pastures and still waters. I mow the grass and swim laps. 

I’ve asked God throughout ministry why I didn’t see Him providing rest for me. Didn’t he care how hard I was working? Didn’t he see how my soul lay parched and, when I was honest, angry?

Yet part of my answer lay in the question. I didn’t see. I…have a discernment problem. I confuse “poured out” with “burned out”—as if caring for the body and soul he gave me was selfish rather than loving. Rather than reminding myself I am not what I do for God.

I don’t really view myself with sober judgment. I think of myself more highly than I ought (Romans 12:3). I overestimate what God wants me to say yes to (and the girth of the “Africa” slice of my pie). Or whether I can keep going and love sincerely (Romans 12:9). I don’t examine my motivations for over-yes-ing. I proclaim a false Gospel: God loves busy, exhausted Christians best.

Truth: My opportunity does not equal my call. (Wish there wasn’t so much of a gap between the person I want to be and the person I actually am.) 

But whether burnout is of my own making or not—I’ve still found a God who tenderly nurses my singed soul, and welcomes me into his rest. Who whispers that the health of my own soul, and its connectedness to him, matter so much more than my frantic, sometimes faithless tasks “for the Kingdom.”