God didn’t ask you to be the strong one

God never asked you to be the strong one.

He never placed the weight of the world upon your shoulders, nor did He weave your worth into how much you could carry without breaking.

But somewhere—somewhere between the expectations and the applause,

somewhere between the quiet disappointments and the need to be enough—

you learned to measure your value by your capacity.

You became the one who held it all together.

The one who kept showing up,

kept giving more,

kept pushing through while the storm howled inside. You learned to survive,

but you forgot how to breathe.

And now, the heaviness in your chest,

the tears cried alone behind locked doors,

the sleepless nights of overthinking and unseen ache— they’re not proof that you’re failing.

They’re signs.

Divine signals that you’ve wandered from the rest He died to give you.

Beloved, this is not the life He called you to.

Christ did not endure the cross so that you could live in survival mode.

He did not conquer death so that you could be crushed by life.

You were never meant to be your own savior.

Come down from the striving.

Lay down the proving.

Let the mask slip.

Let the tears fall.

There is no shame in collapse before the One who holds all things together—

including you.

This is your invitation—

not to do more,

but to be still.

To return.

To remember.

To exhale.

You are not your productivity.

You are not your performance.

You are not how much you can handle.

You are His.

And He is rest.

He is refuge.

He is enough.