The tension of both is the everyday reality.

It feels contradictory…like how can they exist together? The overwhelming feeling of “this is hard” or “I expected this to look different” and also the river of hope roaring through your veins as you declare, “God is all over this place.”
Like many things, the tension of both is the everyday reality.
It doesn’t mean you’re any less faithful to admit that it’s requiring more stamina or strength than you feel like you have.
It doesn’t make you any less grateful to voice that you’re worn out and yet…wildly expectant for what God is doing.
Is it possible for your prayer to be both, “Lord, can You revive my mind? Heart? Soul? Body? All of it.” And in the same breath be whispering, “I see that You’re healing…I see that You’re refining…I see it and I want all of it.”

I don’t think we are supposed to live tired all the time. I don’t think God wants us to operate outside of His boundary lines. I’m not saying living beyond your capacity is honoring.
I’m saying—sometimes, life is just LIFE-ING and it is loud and feels intrusive to the life that you planned or how you thought this would go down.
Or just that navigating the season you’re in is hard because the inherent nature of what is brings/asks:
You’re stewarding little lives,
You’re working tough hours,
You’re sifting through generational pain,
You’re recognizing unrealized grief,
You’re working to have a thriving marriage instead of an okay one,
You’re searching for discernment on how to turn off inputs that don’t serve you so that you can have output that lifes you and others,
You’re just living…and learning how to be loved and to walk in that same love.
Honestly, if you’re covered in flesh, this is often the reality.

And it’s holy.
The circumstance was never meant to change from hard to easy; however, the burden gets placed on His shoulders and you discover what it looks like to walk lightly amidst the hard. That’s faith.

So if you’re tired but trusting,
Weary but also expectant,
Worn thin but experiencing His rejuvenation,
Aware of your frailty and clinging to His faithfulness, you aren’t off-track or missing it.

Hope often isn’t loud; it’s often the quiet whispering back to God, “I know You’re here.”