I snapped the photo below of my friend Zach while hiking in Yosemite. At first glance, it looks like he’s holding up a massive boulder. His face says it all—strained, burdened, fighting to keep the weight from crushing him.
Of course, He’s not really holding up the rock.
The rock is holding itself up.
But isn’t that exactly how ministry can feel sometimes?
There are seasons when it seems like we’re carrying everything. Recruiting volunteers. Writing lessons. Scheduling teams. Solving staffing problems. Ordering supplies. Managing budgets. Answering parent emails. Training leaders. Following up with guests. Planning events. Putting out fires. Preparing for Sunday while already worrying about next Sunday.
The list never seems to end.
Before long, we begin to feel like the success of the ministry rests entirely on our shoulders. We start pushing up against the weight of it all, convinced that if we stop for even a moment, everything will come crashing down.
Yet God never asked us to hold up the rock.
In fact, Scripture paints an entirely different picture.
Psalm 46:1 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”
A refuge is not something you carry. A refuge is something that carries you.
The purpose of a rock is not to become your burden. The purpose of a rock is to become your shelter.
Throughout Scripture, God is repeatedly called our Rock. David wrote, “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer” (Psalm 18:2). Notice that David didn’t describe God as another responsibility on his to-do list. He described Him as protection. Safety. Security. Strength.
Somewhere along the way, many ministry leaders unintentionally reverse the relationship. Instead of resting under the Rock, we find ourselves trying to hold everything together for God.
We begin thinking things like:
If I don’t do it, it won’t get done.
If I don’t solve this problem, no one will.
If I don’t stay late, work harder, answer every email, attend every meeting, and carry every responsibility, the ministry will suffer.
Those thoughts may sound noble, but they often reveal something deeper: we’ve slowly started trusting ourselves more than we’ve trusted God.
That realization can sting.
I’ve been there.
There have been seasons when my prayer life shrank while my task list grew. Seasons when I spent more time managing ministry than enjoying the God who called me into ministry. Seasons when I felt exhausted, frustrated, and overwhelmed—not because God had given me too much to do, but because I had accepted responsibilities He never assigned to me.
That’s why Jesus’ words are so refreshing:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest… For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)
Notice that Jesus didn’t say there would be no burden. Ministry always carries responsibility. Shepherding people is meaningful work. But He did say His burden is light.
If what we’re carrying feels crushing, it may be worth asking whether we’re carrying more than He gave us.
Sometimes the most spiritual thing a ministry leader can do is pause long enough to evaluate their load.
What am I doing that God has clearly called me to do?
What am I doing because someone else expects it?
What am I doing simply because I’ve always done it that way?
What am I doing that no one is actually asking me to do?
And perhaps the hardest question of all:
What am I doing that someone else could do just as well—or maybe even better?
Many of the burdens that wear us down are not sinful responsibilities. They’re simply unnecessary responsibilities. Good things that have crowded out the best things.
Some tasks need to be delegated.
Some programs need to be simplified.
Some expectations need to be adjusted.
Some traditions need to be retired.
And some pressures need to be surrendered completely to God because they were never ours to carry in the first place.
One of the greatest leadership lessons I’ve learned is that every “yes” creates a burden. Sometimes that burden is worthwhile. Sometimes it isn’t. Wisdom is learning the difference.
God’s desire for His servants is not perpetual exhaustion. He is not honored when we burn ourselves out trying to prove our dedication. He is honored when we trust Him enough to admit our limits.
Jesus told His disciples in Mark 6:31, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”
Think about that. The Son of God looked at ministry leaders surrounded by needs, opportunities, and unfinished work and told them to rest.
Not because the work was done.
But because they were.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed today, maybe it’s time to stop pushing up against the rock.
Step underneath it instead.
Let God be your refuge.
Let Him be your strength.
Let Him carry what only He can carry.
The ministry belongs to Him anyway.
And when you finally stop trying to hold up the rock, you may discover what David knew all along:
“The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer.”
Not my burden.
My refuge.
