Being tired isn’t giving up. It’s giving someone else the opportunity to carry the torch. It is that when we are depleted, when we’ve given all we have to give, then God. We trust God to continue to move and we accept his manna. We go to the desert, to the mountains, to the sea, for retreat, for replenishment, to hear his voice. We return when he tells us to.
I codirect a ministry in Ukraine while on dialysis in the US. Sometimes I march boldly in the fight and other days it is enough to breathe jah-weh, jah-weh.
Another Penwell here. I recently came upon your posts (I suppose the algorithms see to such things) and started reading them, first out of curiosity and then out of resonance. I am a retired minister—truly re-tired—having burned out from trying to do everything for everyone for too many years. There was nothing left to offer. In the several years following, for my sanity I was mercifully forced to redefine my worth not in terms of how much I could give, but in who I am. To survive I had to drop my self-judgment around my perceived limitations and failures. In the intervening years I have joyfully discovered new ways to serve and minister.
I too believe it is possible to believe in the sunrise and yet be too tired to see it. Sometimes we see only enough to find the broom tree and discover the manna beneath it. God puts it there for us, and the refusal to accept the meal, the cool towel offered, would just be to tell God that we know better. Sometimes our confession of exhaustion itself is an act of service.
So—my new acquaintance and fellow witness—I stand (or sit) beside you now, trusting your wisdom and listening with you. You are a universal treasure, and I’m glad to have met you.
Cliff, I'm so glad to meet you! I've only met one other Penwell in the wild (other than family I know about). And the fact that you're a retired minister is so wonderful! Thank you for your kind words and your witness
Sitting under the broom tree with you. After reading all these comments I’m encouraged to think there are lots of us who still believe God wins in the end. But it’s hard to keep moving.
You are not alone. You mentioned Elijah, but remember, Jesus also rested and recharged. This is not a sprint. If you haven't heard it yet, I recommend "Sleeves Up," by Crys Matthews.
Amen, brother. For everything there is a season. Yours is under the broom tree, and that's true of a lot of the rest of us. Trying to be faithful when that seems so fruitless. Thank you for letting other broom tree dwellers know they are not alone.
May God bless you with energy in God's time, and continued wisdom about yourself and the world.
I too am tired, but haven't quite reached your place of tiredness. Probably because I'm retired and take whole days to read the news, pray, sleep for an hour, read some more, post some on Facebook, pray, sleep an hour....
At 73 with pulmonary hypertension and mild congestive heart failure plus a bunch of other stuff, I have had to learn the difficult art of 'pacing' myself. I've even tried taking a sabbath from the news, just 1 day a week, but that doesn't seem to work out
Please know that you do make a difference to us, even when it may not feel like it does. God bless you.
Retired for sometime now but still looking forward rather than behind, hearing “Be still and know that I am God. Love the one in front of you and know I will take care of the (your) rest.” Blessings.
Rev. Penwell, I hear you. I see you. I am so grateful for you …. Grateful that you are one of very few clergy with the character and courage to speak up. And keep doing so. I also am hanging on to faith and believing that the light of Christ continues to shine in the darkness. You are not alone. This is a time for all of us from different denominations to rise up together and join our hands with you. We can be your Aaron and Hur to hold you up. Many blessings and rest to you. Always.
Like you, Derek, I am exhausted. For the last couple of weeks, my 72-year-old heart has been beating out of my chest. I already have a-fib, but that's been under control and this doesn't seem to be that, according to my Apple Watch. Nope it's flat out anxiety. And I am married to a man who said She shouldn't have been there blocking the street, keeping the soldiers from enforcing the law. How am I supposed to live with that? We agreed not to talk about politics but I keep bringing it up, keep thinking that surely this latest most egregious thing will turn the ship but it never does. Yet he also has health challenges and I know that we should be spending these last few years enjoying together what we have left, what life hasn't taken from us. And I know that if he goes before I do, I will regret the pokes, the prods, the arguments.
Oddly, 45 years ago, I wrote an article for a Sojourners-adjacent Christian magazine that no longer exists, about how to live simply with a spouse who doesn't want to. It was called "Yielding and Simple." The main takeaway was do what you can, bloom where you are planted, be faithful in the small things. Back then, that meant recycling, thrifting, doing with less. And my husband was not a believer then. He came to Christ a couple of years later ... I left my Quaker church to follow him to the Bible church he chose for himself. To my now immense regret, I got swept along with all the nascent movement of what is now Christian nationalism. Raised our kids with Gothard and Dobson. Our son walked away from the Lord in his early 20s.
I excused his blatant cruelty and sexism and voted for Trump twice because I figured he would be good for Israel (he's the modern Cyrus, right?) and would overturn Roe v Wade which were my two hot button issues. It took my son's horror on January 2, 2021, and then the monstrosity four days later, to begin to peel the blinders off. I got what I voted for and I'm sick with regret.
I am a 26-year-old Quaker again in my spirit, kicking against the pricks (thanks, KJV), to no effect. I ride with a stuffed frog in the front seat of my car, and a Beanie squirrel on my keychain as memorials. Impotent ones.
Michele, your note so moving and difficult. I can’t imagine the stress of being so at odds with your spouse over this. God bless you for your faithful witness!
I'm here. Exhausted and overwhelmed and yes, depressed. But here. And I am putting one tired foot back on the pavement. (When I can get out of bed.) Thank you for your words. They make a difference to me.
Derek, I hear your anguish and wish my words might relieve it in some way. I, too, can get caught up in the heartbreak of the current National political atrocity…tRump.
I no longer say President Trump bec I don’t acknowledge that he’s my president. Meanwhile he actively disavows that he is my president. I’m a woke democrat, you see.
However, I hang onto your posts/ your words and look for them daily. I read You and Heather Cox Richardson as often as possible to hear Sanity and Truth!! I cling to it. At 77, my grip isn’t what it used to be, I struggle to have a clue for what to do or think next. But this text isn’t about me…it’s for YOU, to say YOUR MESSAGES REACH ME! Thank you, Derek!
Thank you for your words and insights and honesty. Rest. And know others are out here working while you do so.
My DOC church in a Kansas City suburb is doing the work. I'm on a small team of people who have taken the Kingian Nonviolence training and we are sharing the principles and work with the rest of our congregation. You probably are aware it teaches that nonviolence starts in our hearts and extends to our words; it's not just avoiding physical nonviolence.
Last week we shared this quote from you: “Humility doesn’t mean paralysis. It doesn’t mean we stop acting or caring or taking moral stands. Instead, it means we act with a modicum of self-awareness, entertaining the possibility that we might still be learning and our convictions could be refined by encountering other people who’re stumbling toward the truth. It means we listen…especially to voices we’ve been taught to distrust.”
So even when you feel you have no words, words you've spoken before continue to have a positive and motivating impact. Thank you.
Thank you, Derek. I found in this reflection poetry for my own heart. I needed this brutal honesty, and have felt so often the way you do, shelted the unbeliefs I fostered, regretted advancing years, and the "but" comes...BUT I believe in this God of love and I cannot let that ember be snuffed out by the evil that ignites indiginities and indecency. Thank you...
I understand exhaustion. When a colleague who was one of my best friends died suddenly from cancer, I was stunned. Five months later, my husband died by suicide, and I had an existential crisis of faith. As I began to get my feet back under me, the election happened.
A pastor friend had been encouraging me. He was recently brutalized by ICE, trying to help a parishioner. Some in his parish want him fired. When I saw him yesterday, he was hurt and exhausted. As I tried to support him, I could see it wasn’t making much of an impact. I’m praying that rest and our love will be enough. This stuff is so very hard…
Good Lord, Jamie! That's horrific! I'm so sorry to hear that you've dealt with so much heaviness. But thank you for offering up some compassion for your pastor friend. You're absolutely right: this stuff is so very hard... Sending love and light!
Thank you, Derek. One day at a time. Praying for you too, as we work through these trying times and try to hold on to our faith, while walking in the light. ❤️
This just resonates with my heart. I've been feeling the weight for others like you and some of the other people I follow who continue to speak truth in the midst of adversity. It is exhausting!
As a therapist during Covid, I remember feeling like my work - as exhausting as it was - was integral to the needs of the world. I realized that in the midst of the overwhelm, I still needed to find rest. Rest is essential. And I recognized that I could only do the part that I could do. Sometimes that meant stepping forward; other times that meant stepping back.
This last week I've been thinking a lot about the people who are keeping us informed, who continue to speak to our hearts and our conscience, who continue to call us to the ways of love and integrity, and who continue to speak even when it's hard.
Doing this isn't limitless or cost-free, albeit integral. I posted a few days ago that when things shift, I know I will still be here, doing my work, for those who are battle-weary and who keep going. Because we often keep going when we are needed, but at some point, we need to pause, and that can come with an increased need for rest and support.
I love your description of work being done in multiple rooms. I have to fight the internal "Am I doing enough?" When that comes up, I go back to this thought that I need to live my vocation - my calling from within to return to my true self.
Sometimes this means stepping back so I can return with renewed energy, sometimes this means passing the torch, and sometimes this is cheering on and encouraging the ones in the midst of the process.
Thank you for steadily showing up here, sharing your heart, and inspiring us to hold faith.
Thank you for taking so much care and thoughtfulness in reaching out, Haide! I cannot imagine being a therapist ... especially during Covid. Wow! I hear you about the kind of tension between feeling worn out and feeling like there's still so much to be done. Thank you, Haide!
Being tired isn’t giving up. It’s giving someone else the opportunity to carry the torch. It is that when we are depleted, when we’ve given all we have to give, then God. We trust God to continue to move and we accept his manna. We go to the desert, to the mountains, to the sea, for retreat, for replenishment, to hear his voice. We return when he tells us to.
I codirect a ministry in Ukraine while on dialysis in the US. Sometimes I march boldly in the fight and other days it is enough to breathe jah-weh, jah-weh.
I stand with you.
Thank you, Denny and God bless you for your work!
Another Penwell here. I recently came upon your posts (I suppose the algorithms see to such things) and started reading them, first out of curiosity and then out of resonance. I am a retired minister—truly re-tired—having burned out from trying to do everything for everyone for too many years. There was nothing left to offer. In the several years following, for my sanity I was mercifully forced to redefine my worth not in terms of how much I could give, but in who I am. To survive I had to drop my self-judgment around my perceived limitations and failures. In the intervening years I have joyfully discovered new ways to serve and minister.
I too believe it is possible to believe in the sunrise and yet be too tired to see it. Sometimes we see only enough to find the broom tree and discover the manna beneath it. God puts it there for us, and the refusal to accept the meal, the cool towel offered, would just be to tell God that we know better. Sometimes our confession of exhaustion itself is an act of service.
So—my new acquaintance and fellow witness—I stand (or sit) beside you now, trusting your wisdom and listening with you. You are a universal treasure, and I’m glad to have met you.
Cliff, I'm so glad to meet you! I've only met one other Penwell in the wild (other than family I know about). And the fact that you're a retired minister is so wonderful! Thank you for your kind words and your witness
Sitting under the broom tree with you. After reading all these comments I’m encouraged to think there are lots of us who still believe God wins in the end. But it’s hard to keep moving.
Peace and blessing to you, Linda!
Not sure how many of us left in the wild—I’ve never seen any, except for relatives and the odd telephone/email listing. Good to meet you!
You are not alone. You mentioned Elijah, but remember, Jesus also rested and recharged. This is not a sprint. If you haven't heard it yet, I recommend "Sleeves Up," by Crys Matthews.
Thank you, Michael! I’ll look for it.
Amen, brother. For everything there is a season. Yours is under the broom tree, and that's true of a lot of the rest of us. Trying to be faithful when that seems so fruitless. Thank you for letting other broom tree dwellers know they are not alone.
May God bless you with energy in God's time, and continued wisdom about yourself and the world.
I too am tired, but haven't quite reached your place of tiredness. Probably because I'm retired and take whole days to read the news, pray, sleep for an hour, read some more, post some on Facebook, pray, sleep an hour....
At 73 with pulmonary hypertension and mild congestive heart failure plus a bunch of other stuff, I have had to learn the difficult art of 'pacing' myself. I've even tried taking a sabbath from the news, just 1 day a week, but that doesn't seem to work out
Please know that you do make a difference to us, even when it may not feel like it does. God bless you.
Thank you so much, Norma! I really appreciate that.
Retired for sometime now but still looking forward rather than behind, hearing “Be still and know that I am God. Love the one in front of you and know I will take care of the (your) rest.” Blessings.
Rev. Penwell, I hear you. I see you. I am so grateful for you …. Grateful that you are one of very few clergy with the character and courage to speak up. And keep doing so. I also am hanging on to faith and believing that the light of Christ continues to shine in the darkness. You are not alone. This is a time for all of us from different denominations to rise up together and join our hands with you. We can be your Aaron and Hur to hold you up. Many blessings and rest to you. Always.
That is so kind, Karen! Thank you for your encouragement. I so appreciate it
You are welcome. I also mentioned your writing to my husband. He said, "it reminds me of Jesus in the Garden - He, too, felt discouraged."
Like you, Derek, I am exhausted. For the last couple of weeks, my 72-year-old heart has been beating out of my chest. I already have a-fib, but that's been under control and this doesn't seem to be that, according to my Apple Watch. Nope it's flat out anxiety. And I am married to a man who said She shouldn't have been there blocking the street, keeping the soldiers from enforcing the law. How am I supposed to live with that? We agreed not to talk about politics but I keep bringing it up, keep thinking that surely this latest most egregious thing will turn the ship but it never does. Yet he also has health challenges and I know that we should be spending these last few years enjoying together what we have left, what life hasn't taken from us. And I know that if he goes before I do, I will regret the pokes, the prods, the arguments.
Oddly, 45 years ago, I wrote an article for a Sojourners-adjacent Christian magazine that no longer exists, about how to live simply with a spouse who doesn't want to. It was called "Yielding and Simple." The main takeaway was do what you can, bloom where you are planted, be faithful in the small things. Back then, that meant recycling, thrifting, doing with less. And my husband was not a believer then. He came to Christ a couple of years later ... I left my Quaker church to follow him to the Bible church he chose for himself. To my now immense regret, I got swept along with all the nascent movement of what is now Christian nationalism. Raised our kids with Gothard and Dobson. Our son walked away from the Lord in his early 20s.
I excused his blatant cruelty and sexism and voted for Trump twice because I figured he would be good for Israel (he's the modern Cyrus, right?) and would overturn Roe v Wade which were my two hot button issues. It took my son's horror on January 2, 2021, and then the monstrosity four days later, to begin to peel the blinders off. I got what I voted for and I'm sick with regret.
I am a 26-year-old Quaker again in my spirit, kicking against the pricks (thanks, KJV), to no effect. I ride with a stuffed frog in the front seat of my car, and a Beanie squirrel on my keychain as memorials. Impotent ones.
Michele, your note so moving and difficult. I can’t imagine the stress of being so at odds with your spouse over this. God bless you for your faithful witness!
I'm here. Exhausted and overwhelmed and yes, depressed. But here. And I am putting one tired foot back on the pavement. (When I can get out of bed.) Thank you for your words. They make a difference to me.
We’re in this mess together!
Derek, I hear your anguish and wish my words might relieve it in some way. I, too, can get caught up in the heartbreak of the current National political atrocity…tRump.
I no longer say President Trump bec I don’t acknowledge that he’s my president. Meanwhile he actively disavows that he is my president. I’m a woke democrat, you see.
However, I hang onto your posts/ your words and look for them daily. I read You and Heather Cox Richardson as often as possible to hear Sanity and Truth!! I cling to it. At 77, my grip isn’t what it used to be, I struggle to have a clue for what to do or think next. But this text isn’t about me…it’s for YOU, to say YOUR MESSAGES REACH ME! Thank you, Derek!
Thank you for your words and insights and honesty. Rest. And know others are out here working while you do so.
My DOC church in a Kansas City suburb is doing the work. I'm on a small team of people who have taken the Kingian Nonviolence training and we are sharing the principles and work with the rest of our congregation. You probably are aware it teaches that nonviolence starts in our hearts and extends to our words; it's not just avoiding physical nonviolence.
Last week we shared this quote from you: “Humility doesn’t mean paralysis. It doesn’t mean we stop acting or caring or taking moral stands. Instead, it means we act with a modicum of self-awareness, entertaining the possibility that we might still be learning and our convictions could be refined by encountering other people who’re stumbling toward the truth. It means we listen…especially to voices we’ve been taught to distrust.”
So even when you feel you have no words, words you've spoken before continue to have a positive and motivating impact. Thank you.
Amen
Thank you, Derek. I found in this reflection poetry for my own heart. I needed this brutal honesty, and have felt so often the way you do, shelted the unbeliefs I fostered, regretted advancing years, and the "but" comes...BUT I believe in this God of love and I cannot let that ember be snuffed out by the evil that ignites indiginities and indecency. Thank you...
I really appreciate that, Ellen! Thank you
Derek,
I understand exhaustion. When a colleague who was one of my best friends died suddenly from cancer, I was stunned. Five months later, my husband died by suicide, and I had an existential crisis of faith. As I began to get my feet back under me, the election happened.
A pastor friend had been encouraging me. He was recently brutalized by ICE, trying to help a parishioner. Some in his parish want him fired. When I saw him yesterday, he was hurt and exhausted. As I tried to support him, I could see it wasn’t making much of an impact. I’m praying that rest and our love will be enough. This stuff is so very hard…
Good Lord, Jamie! That's horrific! I'm so sorry to hear that you've dealt with so much heaviness. But thank you for offering up some compassion for your pastor friend. You're absolutely right: this stuff is so very hard... Sending love and light!
Thank you, Derek. One day at a time. Praying for you too, as we work through these trying times and try to hold on to our faith, while walking in the light. ❤️
This just resonates with my heart. I've been feeling the weight for others like you and some of the other people I follow who continue to speak truth in the midst of adversity. It is exhausting!
As a therapist during Covid, I remember feeling like my work - as exhausting as it was - was integral to the needs of the world. I realized that in the midst of the overwhelm, I still needed to find rest. Rest is essential. And I recognized that I could only do the part that I could do. Sometimes that meant stepping forward; other times that meant stepping back.
This last week I've been thinking a lot about the people who are keeping us informed, who continue to speak to our hearts and our conscience, who continue to call us to the ways of love and integrity, and who continue to speak even when it's hard.
Doing this isn't limitless or cost-free, albeit integral. I posted a few days ago that when things shift, I know I will still be here, doing my work, for those who are battle-weary and who keep going. Because we often keep going when we are needed, but at some point, we need to pause, and that can come with an increased need for rest and support.
I love your description of work being done in multiple rooms. I have to fight the internal "Am I doing enough?" When that comes up, I go back to this thought that I need to live my vocation - my calling from within to return to my true self.
Sometimes this means stepping back so I can return with renewed energy, sometimes this means passing the torch, and sometimes this is cheering on and encouraging the ones in the midst of the process.
Thank you for steadily showing up here, sharing your heart, and inspiring us to hold faith.
Thank you for taking so much care and thoughtfulness in reaching out, Haide! I cannot imagine being a therapist ... especially during Covid. Wow! I hear you about the kind of tension between feeling worn out and feeling like there's still so much to be done. Thank you, Haide!