When Your Heart Feels Heavy

🌞 Holy Moments in Ordinary Days: A Summer Reflection Series

Week 3

Some days, it’s not just that your body feels tired.

It’s that your heart feels tired.

The kind of tired that sleep can’t fix.

The kind that sits in your chest like a weight you didn’t agree to carry.

The kind you try to push through, because you’ve still got work to do, people to show up for, and a life to figure out.

I know that kind of heaviness.

I’ve felt it while smiling in group photos.

I’ve carried it into church and tried to worship anyway.

I’ve talked around it when someone asks, "How have you been?”

I’ve also seen that heaviness in people I deeply admire; especially in Pastors. It’s hard to explain just how much I respect them. Every day, they show up for others. They carry weight most people never see... grief, family crises, marriages on the brink, terminal diagnoses, funeral after funeral… and still, they serve. They preach. They lead. They carry other people’s pain with strength and grace.

But if I’m honest, there are times I feel bad wanting to chat with them.

Not because I’m bringing any problems to the table, but because I know how little free time they get. How rare it is for them to have space that isn’t filled by someone else’s need. And the last thing I want is to be another person who “takes.”

When we get together, I don’t want anything from them. Not their wisdom, not their counsel, not their leadership. I just want to be their friend. I want to sit down over food, share a bottle of wine, talk about current events, tell ridiculous stories, and laugh.

Not as Pastor. Just as who they are outside of the role.

Because even the strongest leaders need a space where they can let their guard down. Where no one expects anything. Where they don’t have to fix or hold or carry anything. And I feel honored to be that kind of safe place for them.

And it reminds me again:

We all need those moments.

We all carry things that no one else sees.

Even the people who “seem fine.”

Even the ones who lead and serve and smile.

This kind of heaviness, the spiritual fatigue and longing reminds me of Psalm 43, where the psalmist cries out:"Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." (Psalm 43:5)

It’s okay for your soul to feel downcast. It’s okay to be disturbed inside. The invitation is to put your hope in God even when you don’t feel strong. Even when the heaviness presses in.

And that’s why Jesus’ invitation means so much to me.

Not just for the weary people I know, but for me too.

When Jesus said, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened…” He wasn’t talking about physical exhaustion. He was talking about the heart.

He didn’t say, “Come to me when you’re strong.” He said, “Come to me when you’re tired.” He didn’t say, “Fix it first.” He said, “Bring it here.”

Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is rest.

Sometimes the heaviest thing you can carry is the one you’re pretending doesn’t exist.

And sometimes, God meets you in the silence when all you have left is a sigh.

So whether you’re a leader, a listener, a giver, a fixer... or just someone holding things in silently… know this: God sees the weight you’re carrying. He’s not disappointed that you’re tired. He’s inviting you to bring it to him.

Sometimes the heaviest things become the most sacred invitations.

Pause & Ponder

What emotions have you been carrying quietly? Who’s been depending on you lately, and have you taken time to let God pour back into you? Who in your life might need a safe, restful space like that too?

Scripture to Sit With

Matthew 11:28 (NIV):

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."

Small Step This Week

Let yourself feel. Whether it’s crying, journaling, or driving in silence... don’t rush to fix it. Instead, invite God to sit with you in the middle of it.