I Realized I Needed to Slow Down

A Gospel Reflection on Burnout, Burpees, and God’s Gentle Tap on the Shoulder

When Burnout Doesn’t Look Like Burnout

Burnout doesn’t always show up with sirens and smoke.
Sometimes it sneaks in wearing a smile and holding a planner.

I’d been running a masterclass in pretending I was fine.
Smile. Push through. Add one more thing. Tell myself I’ll rest “after this week.”
Convince myself that Spartan Training at 5:30 AM is a totally normal hobby for a man in his fifties with a full‑time job, a podcast, a ministry, a blog, a family, and two dogs who think they’re my emotional support team — despite being, let’s be honest, unemployed freeloaders.

It was a beautiful illusion.
Right up until it wasn’t.

The Tuesday That Broke the Illusion

The day I realized I needed to slow down wasn’t cinematic.
No collapse. No burning bush. No angelic intervention.
Just a Tuesday — because of course it was a Tuesday — and me staring at my planner like it had personally betrayed me.

Normally, my planner is my anchor. My “get your life together” tool.
But that day, even the pen felt heavy.
My thoughts felt like they were slogging through wet cement.

I wasn’t overwhelmed in the loud, chaotic way.
I was overwhelmed in the quiet, “I have nothing left in the tank” way.

And then it hit me — not like lightning, more like a tired whisper:

“You can’t keep sprinting through your life like this.”

Which was ironic, because I had literally been sprinting.
Spartan Training will do that to you.
There’s nothing quite like doing burpees at dawn to make you question your life choices.

It felt like God gently tapping me on the shoulder saying,

“Hey buddy… you’re doing the most. Maybe sit down.”

So I did.

The Dogs Were Concerned

I sat there long enough for the dogs to wander in and give me that look — the one that says, “We love you, but you’re being weird.”
Long enough for my coffee to go cold.
Long enough to realize I’d been running on fumes for so long that I’d forgotten what it felt like to actually have energy.

And here’s the surprising part:
I wasn’t ashamed.
I wasn’t disappointed.
I was relieved.

Because admitting I needed to slow down felt like finally telling the truth.

Reclaiming My Life One Square Inch at a Time

I didn’t quit everything and move to Montana — though let’s be honest, Montana is always tempting.
I just started giving each part of my life its own lane again.

Work has a lane.
Creative work has a lane.
Spiritual life has a lane.
Fitness has a lane.
Rest has a lane.
And none of them get to swerve into the others without permission.

It felt like reclaiming my life one square inch at a time.

The Radical Act of Not Being Impressive

Then I did something truly countercultural:
I stopped trying to be impressive.

I stopped trying to outrun exhaustion.
I stopped pretending I wasn’t tired.
I stopped acting like I could do everything all the time.

And once I slowed down — once I let myself breathe — I could actually hear God again.
Not in a booming, cinematic way.
More like a quiet presence saying,

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

The Theology of Rest (and Why God Invented Naps)

It wasn’t a spiritual breakthrough.
It was a human one.

Because slowing down isn’t weakness.
It’s wisdom.
It’s honesty.
It’s self‑respect.
It’s the moment you stop sprinting long enough to realize you’ve been running from yourself.

Even Jesus took naps — and He was literally saving the world.
Mark 4:38 says He fell asleep in a storm.
If the Son of God can nap through chaos, maybe I can skip a 5 AM burpee session.

Rest Is a Lifeline

Once I slowed down, the heaviness started to lift.
Not all at once.
But enough.

Enough to feel like myself again.
Enough to breathe.
Enough to remember that rest isn’t optional — it’s a lifeline.

The day I realized I needed to slow down wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t glamorous.
It wasn’t even interesting to anyone but me.

But it was the day I came back to myself.
And honestly?

That’s enough.