Even Leaders Need a Place to Rest

As spiritual leaders, whether from behind a pulpit or within our own families, it can become almost expected, if not ingrained in us, that we are somehow supposed to be above ordinary human limitations. We know those we serve, those we support, and those we might consider our flock experience dread, anxiety, physical pain, grief, loss, disappointment, and every other part of the human experience. We recognize their exhaustion. We see the weight in their eyes. We understand when they need rest, encouragement, or someone to lean on.

But do we give ourselves permission to be human?

Recently, God and I walked through an extended season in which I became so overwhelmed by physical pain and emotional exhaustion that I did not even want to talk to Him, much less anyone else. I was tired beyond words. I desperately wanted someone else to be responsible for a while. I wanted someone else to carry the burden, make the decisions, and hold everything together.

But who was going to be responsible for me? I live alone. I do not have local family. The reality of that felt especially heavy in that moment.

In my despair, I found myself identifying with Elijah after his great victory on Mount Carmel. We often celebrate the fire falling from heaven, the prophets of Baal being defeated, and Elijah's bold faith. Yet shortly afterward, exhausted, afraid, and depleted, he ran into the wilderness. Eventually, he crawled beneath a broom tree and simply gave up. He told God he had had enough. He asked to die.

I understand that place more than I wish I did.

Elijah was not hiding because he lacked faith. He was disappearing because he was exhausted. His body, emotions, and spirit had been stretched beyond their limits. In that moment, God did not correct him, lecture him, or demand a better attitude. God met him in his weakness. He let him sleep. He sent an angel with food and water. Then He let him sleep again. Before addressing Elijah's thoughts, fears, or calling, God first cared for his humanity.

That has always struck me as significant.

God knew Elijah needed more than a sermon. He needed rest, nourishment, and to be reminded that his humanity was not a problem to solve.

During my own "under the broom tree" season, God provided in much the same way. He sent support through friends. He provided practical help when I needed it. He surrounded me with people who cared, even when I struggled to receive their care. Most importantly, He stayed.

He stayed when I was frustrated.

He stayed when I was disappointed.

He stayed when I could not make sense of what was happening.

He stayed when everything I thought He was doing through me seemed to be falling apart.

There were moments when I did not even know how to talk to Him. My prayers felt inadequate. My words felt empty. Yet He remained present. He was not intimidated or even disappointed by my silence, my questions, or my weariness.

As leaders, we often quickly recognize exhaustion in others. We see the strain on their faces. We appreciate the agony they carry. We can offer compassion for their struggles.

The question is whether we extend that same compassion to ourselves.

What standards are you holding yourself to that God may not be requiring?

Where have you convinced yourself that needing help is weakness?

Where are you hiding from God, not because you reject Him, but because you are simply depleted?

Who has God provided as support in your life, and are you allowing them to help you?

Sometimes the most spiritual thing we can do is admit we are human. Sometimes faith looks less like standing on Mount Carmel and more like resting beneath a broom tree while God faithfully provides what we need for the next step.

If you find yourself hiding beneath your own broom tree today, remember this: God is not disenchanted in your humanity. He is already there, meeting you in the shade, offering rest, provision, and the reminder that you were never meant to carry everything alone.