In This Season: When Pushing Harder Isn’t the Answer

I’d love to tell you that I sat down and prayed. That I lit a candle, opened my Bible, and invited peace in like a gentle guest.

But that’s not what happened.

What happened was this: I started doing. Cleaning. Organizing. Replying to texts I didn’t feel like answering. Staring at a to-do list while mentally adding five more things to it. Because that’s my default. My reflex. My autopilot.

When things feel off, I don’t retreat. I power through. I push harder. I try to fix it, hold it all together, and then beat myself up when I can’t.

I don’t say this with pride—I say it with honesty.

Some of it’s wiring. Some of it’s habit. And some of it’s growing up around the kind of women who didn’t quit when things got hard. They tied back their hair and got to work. And I learned early that being tired wasn’t a reason to rest—it was a reason to try harder.

But lately, I’ve started to wonder if hustle is always the holy response. If maybe my grip on everything is the very thing keeping me from peace.

The other day, I was running on fumes. Nothing huge had happened—it was just a string of little things. The kid who couldn’t find their hoodie (you know, the only one that works), the laundry beeping in the background like it had something to say, the inbox, the noise, the mental lists piling up like kindling.

I caught myself doing that shallow breathing that feels normal until you notice how much your chest hurts.

And for once, I didn’t push. I paused.

I stepped out onto the porch and let the morning air hit my skin. It wasn’t a grand act of faith. It was five quiet minutes of being still. Listening. Letting the world go on without me for a beat.

And in that stillness, a simple thought surfaced—something I know but often forget:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”— Matthew 11:28

Not “Come to me after you’ve finished everything. ”Not “Come to me once you’ve earned it.” Just come.

I’m learning that God doesn’t meet me in the flurry. He meets me in the pause.

“In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.”— Isaiah 30:15

I used to think rest was a reward. Now I see it as a rhythm. A spiritual reset built into our design—not a luxury, but a necessity.

So if you’re like me—wired to go harder when life feels shaky—maybe today is your invitation to breathe.

To stop measuring your worth by how many checkboxes you ticked off. To stop confusing busyness with faithfulness. To remember that God isn’t impressed by your hustle. He’s after your heart.

It’s not that showing up doesn’t matter. It does. But some days, showing up looks like doing. Other days, it looks like breathing.

And both can be holy.

So here’s what I’m learning to do:

• Step outside.

• Take one deep breath I actually notice.

• Whisper one honest line: “Lord, steady my pace and make me kind.”

Then do only the next right thing. Not the next ten. Just the next one.

🕊️ You don’t have to carry it all. You just have to come.

—The Rusted Sparrow