Still Human

Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. – Galatians 6:9 (NIV) 

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from caring. 

Not simply the exhaustion of doing too much, but the exhaustion of knowing too much. 

Another war. Another shooting. Another law written against someone’s body. Another community devastated by disaster. Another headline that makes us wonder how much cruelty a human being can absorb before something inside us finally goes numb. 

Sometimes faithfulness feels less like hope and more like keeping our eyes open. 

Paul tells us not to grow weary in doing what is right, but perhaps we’ve misunderstood what perseverance requires. We sometimes imagine faithful people as those who can keep going indefinitely, who always have another ounce of courage, another meeting to attend, another injustice to confront. 

But we are not machines built for endless resistance. 

Even Jesus withdrew. 

Even prophets slept. 

Even creation rests. 

There is a difference between giving up and putting something down for a while. There is a difference between losing hope and recognizing that our bodies need care if we are going to remain capable of loving our neighbors. 

Maybe perseverance sometimes looks like taking a nap. Maybe it looks like turning off the news. Maybe it looks like eating something nourishing, sitting beside someone we love, or remembering that we are more than our usefulness to a cause.  

We do not have to save the world today. We do, however, have to remain human enough to love it. 

So if you are tired, perhaps the invitation today isn’t to try harder. 

Perhaps it is simply this: Rest. The work will still be here. And so will you. 

Prayer
God of weary people, teach us the difference between giving up and putting something down for a while. Give us rest that does not become indifference and courage that does not become self-destruction. Keep our hearts tender enough to remain human in a world that keeps asking us to become numb. Amen.

About the Author
Sam Houser centers their ministry on the sacred work of repair and reconciliation with wounded systems. They are the author of No Longer Keeping the Peace and other works.