3. Create Rhythms of Renewal.
God designed us with a need for sabbath, cycles of work and rest that reflect his own pattern in creation. We serve a Savior who napped in a storm, withdrew from crowds, and honored solitude. If Jesus needed it, so do we.
Rest isn’t something you earn; it is something you steward. Rest isn’t weakness—it is wisdom. It is also worship. When we stop working, we are reminded that the world keeps turning without us, that God is God, and we are not.
Developing healthy rhythms doesn’t mean you take a vacation once a year and call it good. It means
• Scheduling regular days off that are truly off
• Taking time for silence, prayer and non-ministry-related joy
• Disconnecting from work, tech and expectations
• Building in quarterly or seasonal retreats
• Recognizing the early signs of depletion and responding with intentional rest
4. Normalize Professional Help.
You cannot shepherd others toward healing if you are limping quietly through your own pain. Ministry is sacred, but it is also human, done by people with limits, wounds and a nervous system that can only take so much.
Seeking professional mental health help isn’t a failure of faith; it’s an act of stewardship. It is saying, “My calling is too important to ignore the parts of me that are hurting.”
Therapy is for those who want to stay well. It is for the pastor carrying accumulated grief, for the leader processing trauma from betrayal, for the person who needs a space to be known and not just needed.
Here are a few truths that matter deeply:
• You aren’t exempt from suffering. Your role doesn’t disqualify you from anxiety, depression or trauma. If anything, it may increase your exposure to it.
• You are a whole being, mind, body and spirit. If one area is out of alignment, the others will likely follow suit. We cannot compartmentalize our pain and expect resilience to appear.
• Your functioning is affected by attachment wounds, trauma and chronic stress. These are not just “spiritual issues”—they are embedded in your nervous system. Healing often requires trained support to help you process, rewire and rebuild.
• Your need for a counselor isn’t a sign of weakness. It is wise. In fact, it is one of the strongest things you can do to choose growth, clarity and restoration over survival mode.
However, if you are hesitant to pursue mental health help, ask yourself these questions:
• What am I carrying that no one sees?
• Am I confusing strength with silence?
• Where do I need permission to heal?
If you are ready to take the next step:
• Find a licensed mental health professional. Choose one who respects your faith and understands the weight of spiritual leadership.
• Explore spiritual direction or trauma-informed care.
• Don’t wait until you are at the edge. Healing is most effective when it is proactive.
The call to ministry is high, but it shouldn’t crush you. You aren’t called to martyr yourself in the service of others.
The truth is you can be resilient, but only if you are also real about your needs and limits. You don’t have to be fully healed to lead, but you do need to be healing.
Mark Mayfield is an assistant professor of clinical mental health counseling at Colorado Christian University and partners with the American Association of Christian Counselors as the director of practice and ministry development. He served as editor for The Mental Health Handbook for Ministry (Baker).
The Body: The Spiritual Gymnasium
By Justin Whitmel Earley
When I joined my gym, I was in the kind of shape you might expect for someone who sat in an office and typed 10 hours a day (and then coped with the anxiety by eating). So even in the middle of exercise classes, I often would get overwhelmed and just quit. Then I had a day that honestly changed my life.
The scheduled workout was lifting a barbell over my head again and again. A few minutes in, I hit a wall. I looked at the clock—eight minutes left. An eternity.
I was staring at the bar when my coach Ryan stood in front of me and told me to pick it up.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’ve hit the wall.”
He smiled. “Yes, you can.”
Out of sheer peer pressure, I picked the bar up. He kept standing there, and I realized he wasn’t going to leave. Even though I felt like I was dying, I made it to the end. Lying on the ground afterward, my mind raced around the kernel of a realization that the wall was not the wall.
This wouldn’t be all that life-changing, except the next day my son knocked his sippy cup off his high chair tray. I picked it up, handed it to him, and turned to go back to the kitchen when he spiked it down again.
I whipped around to snap at him when I heard a voice in my head say, Pick it up.
This was not my coach, of course, but the Holy Spirit.
