The Intro: Burnout Isn’t Just About Work

What No One Tells You About Holding It All Together

I was in a Bible study recently when someone defined burnout as simply “not being content in your job.”

And honestly? That didn’t sit right with me.

In the past few years, I have become an anti- burnout advocate. I have read every self-help book on the topic, prayed about it, cried about and finally started putting major boundaries in my life to avoid burnout for good. I’ve felt the pain and turmoil burnout has caused in my life—many times throughout my life and career. To be clear, it wasn’t about discontent. It wasn’t about hating what I do.

I actually love the work. I care deeply. I show up. I lead. I coach. I disciple. I organize. I hold space. I hold people. I hold plans. I hold tension. And somewhere along the way, I started holding it all—without even realizing it.

That’s where burnout really began.

Burnout, in my experience, isn’t a lack of passion. It’s being too passionate, wanting and pursuing an outcome for too long without rest. It’s being the glue that keeps everything from falling apart—until you start to fall apart.

It’s not just physical exhaustion. It’s emotional, spiritual and mental. It’s the slow, quiet weight of showing up for everyone day in and day out.

There’s a difference between being responsible and being responsible for everything or everyone. Between supporting others and carrying them. Between stewarding your calling and working out your calling in your own strength.

And I didn’t know I had crossed that line until it was way behind me.

But here's the thing I'm learning—slowly, and painfully, and with a little more grace now: God never asked me to hold everything together.

Colossians 1:17 says, “He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.”

Not me. Not my strength. Not my performance. Not my planning.

Him.

That truth is undoing me in the best way.

The pressure I’ve felt to be everything for everyone? He already is.

The weight I’ve carried trying to keep all the plates spinning? He sees it—and He never asked me to do it alone.

The burnout I’ve felt isn’t just exhaustion. It’s an invitation. To let go. To rest. To be held.

And I want to be obedient to that.

I want to let go of things that were never mine to carry. Letting God be God again.

If you’re there too—somewhere in that tired, stretched, wanting the floorboards to swallow-you-up feeling—this is for you:

You’re not broken. You’re just human. And you’re not alone.

Let me leave you with this:

What are you holding together that God never asked you to carry?

Where can you let go—so He can hold you instead?