What happened? I wondered.
The doctor walked in and smiled.
“You’re finally awake. You collapsed from exhaustion. Your body completely shut down—your energy source dried out.”
That’s when it hit me.
I had been feeding everyone…
except myself.
Dear Diary, I finally understand.
I was Martha—busy, devoted, serving with the best intentions.
But I forgot to be Mary.
Martha was hospitable. She loved having everything put together. Jesus was coming, and with Him would likely be guests—curious ones—wanting to see Lazarus, the man who had come back to life.
Oh, the house couldn’t look unkept. Everything had to be in order. Guests had to be happy, well served, and warmly received. I’m sure Mary would have helped too—but she wasn’t fussing over details the way Martha was. Jesus was here. And for Mary, everything else could wait.
Martha did nothing wrong. Acts of service are a love language for many people. It would have been embarrassing for her to welcome guests into a chaotic home. How would Jesus feel? How would Lazarus feel? People had come from near and far to see them—surely things had to be done properly.
She was doing it for Jesus.
She was doing it for Lazarus.
And yet—
Martha, Martha, Jesus said, you are worried and distracted by many things. But one thing is needed.
I see this far too often.
People serving endlessly in church—at the expense of their families, their careers, even their personal growth in God. I’ve heard the phrases whispered too many times:
“She’s supposed to be a Christian, but her behavior is worse than an unbeliever.”
Not because she didn’t love God—but because she never gave herself permission to grow in Him.
I had busied myself with good work. Meaningful work. Even ministry work.
But I neglected the secret place.
I forgot to sit at His feet—to listen, to learn, to grow.
I forgot that His presence is my portion.
Jesus is the true source.
He said, I am the vine; you are the branches.
Everything I need to grow and flourish flows from Him.
His Word is our food.
He said, Man shall not live by bread alone.
Not that bread is bad—but bread alone is the problem.
Service is good.
But service alone?
That’s draining.
No one can keep pouring from an empty vessel.
If our righteousness were earned by works alone, relentless striving would make sense—but grace tells a different story.
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves; it is the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8–9).
I see it too often—ministers who labor tirelessly, only to die young because they never learned how to rest or care for themselves.
Even Elijah—after doing everything God asked of him—found himself running from Jezebel, hiding in the mountains. I wonder… did he eat?
There is a level of exhaustion where tears come without warning. Where despair settles suddenly. I think Elijah was there.
No wonder when the angel visited him, he didn’t bring a new assignment or a prophetic word.
He brought food.
I imagine God thinking, “Poor Elijah. He has driven himself too hard.”
Let him eat. Let his strength return. There is still a journey ahead.
The second time the angel brought food, Elijah went in the strength of the meal forty days and forty nights without another meal.
I think God was speaking to his heart: You can rest in Me.
But Elijah had driven himself so relentlessly that all he wanted was an escape. And in mercy, God met him where he was.
Serving God is beautiful. Watching lives change is a gift.
But He never called us to give endlessly without being replenished.
Even the branches that bear fruit are pruned—not punished—so they can bear more.
Today, I’m learning to pause.
To sit.
To eat from the Source before serving the table.
Because success without sustenance will always lead to collapse.
And one thing,
only one thing,
is truly needed.