When Showing Up Is Enough
When Showing Up Is Enough
Some weeks, I have a lot to say.
This is not one of those weeks.
This week has been exhausting. The kind of exhausting that settles somewhere deeper than tired muscles. The kind where your patience is shorter, your to-do list seems to multiply overnight, and even the things you normally enjoy can start to feel like one more thing you have to manage.
And if I'm being completely honest, I've felt a little fed up.
Fed up with being needed by everyone.
Fed up with problems that don't seem to have easy solutions.
Fed up with trying to keep all the plates spinning and wondering which one is eventually going to come crashing down.
Maybe you've had a week like that too.
Maybe your version of exhaustion looks like putting the kids in the car and driving them to swim practice when you can barely keep your eyes open. You sit in the parking lot wondering if it's socially acceptable to recline the driver's seat and take a 45-minute nap while they swim.
Maybe it's taking an extremely picky child shoe shopping and realizing that finding a pair of shoes that meets all the necessary criteria—comfortable, the right color, not too tight, not too loose, doesn't "feel weird," and somehow doesn't cost $150—is going to require more emotional energy than you currently possess.
Maybe it's standing in front of the dishwasher for what feels like the 127,439th time that week, staring at a collection of forks, cups, and mysteriously sticky plates, thinking, I simply cannot bend down and pick up one more fork.
Maybe it's making dinner when you'd really rather eat cereal over the sink, packing lunches while simultaneously answering questions about where someone's cleats are, or finally sitting down only to hear, "Mom?"
Again.
And again.
And again.
Maybe it's getting to work already tired, answering the emails, making the copies, helping the student who needs extra support, sitting through the meeting, solving the problem that wasn't on your calendar, and realizing at 3:30 that you haven't actually had a quiet moment all day.
Maybe it's looking at a text message you've been meaning to answer for three days and thinking, I know I should respond. I just don't have one more ounce of brain left.
These things aren't dramatic.
They're ordinary.
And somehow, the ordinary things can be the ones that wear us down the most.
We tend to think that faith is supposed to look strong. We imagine that being a faithful Christian means having the right perspective, keeping a positive attitude, trusting God without hesitation, and responding to every difficult circumstance with grace.
But sometimes faith looks much less impressive.
Sometimes faith looks like getting out of bed when you're tired.
Sometimes it looks like whispering, "Jesus, help me," because you don't have the energy for a longer prayer.
Sometimes it looks like showing up to church even though you don't feel particularly spiritual.
Sometimes it looks like choosing kindness when you're frustrated, forgiving when you'd rather stay angry, or taking one more step when you really just want to sit down.
And sometimes, I think, showing up is enough.
Maybe faithfulness looks like making dinner even though you are exhausted—not because dinner has to be homemade or Pinterest-worthy, but because there are hungry people at your table and somehow you found enough energy to put something on a plate.
Maybe it looks like sending the text you've been putting off because someone needs to know they aren't forgotten.
Maybe it looks like going to work when you'd really rather stay home under a blanket, doing your job to the best of your ability even when you don't feel particularly motivated or inspired.
Maybe it looks like sitting through another swim practice, driving another carpool, washing another load of towels, helping with another homework assignment, or picking up the same shoes from the same spot on the floor for what feels like the millionth time.
None of these things are particularly glamorous.
But they matter.
And perhaps we have underestimated how much faithfulness is found in the small, repetitive, unseen things.
The Bible doesn't tell us that we will always feel strong. In fact, Scripture repeatedly reminds us that our strength isn't ultimately supposed to come from ourselves.
Paul wrote, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Not when you have everything together.
Not when you're doing your best.
Not when you're rested, organized, patient, and spiritually on top of your game.
In weakness.
That's good news for tired people.
Because God isn't waiting for us to pull ourselves together before He meets us. He isn't disappointed when our prayers are short or our faith feels shaky. He doesn't love us more on the weeks when we are productive and joyful than He does on the weeks when we're simply trying to make it through Friday.
Maybe that's something some of us need to hear this week.
You don't have to have it all figured out.
You don't have to pretend you're okay when you're not.
You don't have to manufacture joy.
You don't have to carry everything by yourself.
You can come to God tired. Frustrated. Disappointed. Overwhelmed. You can come with the messy prayer and the heavy heart and the simple admission of, "Lord, I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
And He is still there.
Maybe this week isn't about accomplishing something extraordinary.
Maybe it's about being faithful in the ordinary.
It's putting dinner on the table when you'd rather order takeout.
It's answering the email even though your brain has already checked out for the day.
It's driving to practice when you're exhausted.
It's listening to your child tell you a very long story about something that happened at recess when you have approximately seventeen other things you need to do.
It's washing the dishes.
Again.
It's showing up for the person who needs you.
It's going to work.
It's coming to church.
It's taking a breath.
It's praying one more time.
It's putting one foot in front of the other.
And when you don't have the strength to do anything more, remember that you were never meant to be your own source of strength in the first place.
God is still good.
His grace is still sufficient.
And sometimes, getting through the week with your hand still in His is more than enough.
Some weeks, I have a lot to say.
This is not one of those weeks.
This week has been exhausting. The kind of exhausting that settles somewhere deeper than tired muscles. The kind where your patience is shorter, your to-do list seems to multiply overnight, and even the things you normally enjoy can start to feel like one more thing you have to manage.
And if I'm being completely honest, I've felt a little fed up.
Fed up with being needed by everyone.
Fed up with problems that don't seem to have easy solutions.
Fed up with trying to keep all the plates spinning and wondering which one is eventually going to come crashing down.
Maybe you've had a week like that too.
Maybe your version of exhaustion looks like putting the kids in the car and driving them to swim practice when you can barely keep your eyes open. You sit in the parking lot wondering if it's socially acceptable to recline the driver's seat and take a 45-minute nap while they swim.
Maybe it's taking an extremely picky child shoe shopping and realizing that finding a pair of shoes that meets all the necessary criteria—comfortable, the right color, not too tight, not too loose, doesn't "feel weird," and somehow doesn't cost $150—is going to require more emotional energy than you currently possess.
Maybe it's standing in front of the dishwasher for what feels like the 127,439th time that week, staring at a collection of forks, cups, and mysteriously sticky plates, thinking, I simply cannot bend down and pick up one more fork.
Maybe it's making dinner when you'd really rather eat cereal over the sink, packing lunches while simultaneously answering questions about where someone's cleats are, or finally sitting down only to hear, "Mom?"
Again.
And again.
And again.
Maybe it's getting to work already tired, answering the emails, making the copies, helping the student who needs extra support, sitting through the meeting, solving the problem that wasn't on your calendar, and realizing at 3:30 that you haven't actually had a quiet moment all day.
Maybe it's looking at a text message you've been meaning to answer for three days and thinking, I know I should respond. I just don't have one more ounce of brain left.
These things aren't dramatic.
They're ordinary.
And somehow, the ordinary things can be the ones that wear us down the most.
We tend to think that faith is supposed to look strong. We imagine that being a faithful Christian means having the right perspective, keeping a positive attitude, trusting God without hesitation, and responding to every difficult circumstance with grace.
But sometimes faith looks much less impressive.
Sometimes faith looks like getting out of bed when you're tired.
Sometimes it looks like whispering, "Jesus, help me," because you don't have the energy for a longer prayer.
Sometimes it looks like showing up to church even though you don't feel particularly spiritual.
Sometimes it looks like choosing kindness when you're frustrated, forgiving when you'd rather stay angry, or taking one more step when you really just want to sit down.
And sometimes, I think, showing up is enough.
Maybe faithfulness looks like making dinner even though you are exhausted—not because dinner has to be homemade or Pinterest-worthy, but because there are hungry people at your table and somehow you found enough energy to put something on a plate.
Maybe it looks like sending the text you've been putting off because someone needs to know they aren't forgotten.
Maybe it looks like going to work when you'd really rather stay home under a blanket, doing your job to the best of your ability even when you don't feel particularly motivated or inspired.
Maybe it looks like sitting through another swim practice, driving another carpool, washing another load of towels, helping with another homework assignment, or picking up the same shoes from the same spot on the floor for what feels like the millionth time.
None of these things are particularly glamorous.
But they matter.
And perhaps we have underestimated how much faithfulness is found in the small, repetitive, unseen things.
The Bible doesn't tell us that we will always feel strong. In fact, Scripture repeatedly reminds us that our strength isn't ultimately supposed to come from ourselves.
Paul wrote, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Not when you have everything together.
Not when you're doing your best.
Not when you're rested, organized, patient, and spiritually on top of your game.
In weakness.
That's good news for tired people.
Because God isn't waiting for us to pull ourselves together before He meets us. He isn't disappointed when our prayers are short or our faith feels shaky. He doesn't love us more on the weeks when we are productive and joyful than He does on the weeks when we're simply trying to make it through Friday.
Maybe that's something some of us need to hear this week.
You don't have to have it all figured out.
You don't have to pretend you're okay when you're not.
You don't have to manufacture joy.
You don't have to carry everything by yourself.
You can come to God tired. Frustrated. Disappointed. Overwhelmed. You can come with the messy prayer and the heavy heart and the simple admission of, "Lord, I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
And He is still there.
Maybe this week isn't about accomplishing something extraordinary.
Maybe it's about being faithful in the ordinary.
It's putting dinner on the table when you'd rather order takeout.
It's answering the email even though your brain has already checked out for the day.
It's driving to practice when you're exhausted.
It's listening to your child tell you a very long story about something that happened at recess when you have approximately seventeen other things you need to do.
It's washing the dishes.
Again.
It's showing up for the person who needs you.
It's going to work.
It's coming to church.
It's taking a breath.
It's praying one more time.
It's putting one foot in front of the other.
And when you don't have the strength to do anything more, remember that you were never meant to be your own source of strength in the first place.
God is still good.
His grace is still sufficient.
And sometimes, getting through the week with your hand still in His is more than enough.
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