There’s a quiet crisis in the Church that doesn’t get talked about enough.
It’s not just declining attendance.
It’s not just budgets.
It’s not just cultural change.
It’s this:
Too many people called to hold others forget how to hold themselves.
Too many ministers offer grace to everyone but themselves.
Too many feel guilty for resting.
Ashamed of having limits.
Afraid that boundaries might look like weakness.
But Christ never asked anyone to burn out for the Kingdom.
When we look closely at Jesus—
not as an unreachable ideal,
but as a breathing, embodied presence—
we see a model not only of radical love for others,
but of gentle, grounded love for self.
Jesus withdrew to rest.
He napped during storms.
He rose early to pray—alone.
He surrounded himself with people,
and then stepped away when he needed to.
He nourished his body.
He wept openly.
He received love from friends—
oil on his feet, tears on his skin, food on his plate.
And then he said,
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Not more than.
Not instead of.
As.
You cannot pour from an empty vessel.
You cannot lead others to still waters when your own soul is parched.
Self-love is not self-indulgence.
It is spiritual discipline.
It is the ongoing recognition that you are a beloved child of God—
not just a channel for others’ healing.
It’s easy, especially in ministry, to mistake exhaustion for devotion.
To confuse depletion with faithfulness.
But there is no Gospel in quiet martyrdom for appearance’s sake.
There is only grace—
and the invitation to live in the same love we proclaim.
So let this be a word to all who serve:
- You are allowed to rest.
- You are allowed to say no.
- You are allowed to feel joy.
- You are allowed to tend to your own pain, your own body, your own belovedness.
The Christ we follow was not a machine.
Christ was fully human.
And did not only give love—
Christ also received it,
held it,
knew it.
And so must we.
Let the Church become a place where self-love is not questioned—
but honoured as sacred.
Because the leader who knows they are loved
is the one who leads not from survival,
but from wholeness.