Adunola could not remember the last kilometre.
She was driving home from school on a Thursday evening in Abeokuta, the light going orange over the rooftops, and somewhere between the school gate and the Kuto roundabout her mind had simply gone blank. What brought her back was a horn and a shout. An okada rider had swerved to miss her bumper as she rolled through a junction she had not seen. He shook his fist and called her something she was glad she did not catch. She pulled into the forecourt of a filling station, switched off the engine and sat there with both hands on the steering wheel, shaking.
She was the vice-principal of a secondary school. Fourteen months earlier her husband had suffered a stroke. He could walk a little now, with a frame, but he could not bathe himself, and his speech came slowly. So her day began at five, with warm water, a basin and a towel. Then breakfast, his medication, a quick word to the girl who sat with him while she was out, and the drive to school. After school she went to the pharmacy, or to the physiotherapist, or to the market. Two evenings a week she went through the accounts of the welfare committee at church, which she had chaired for six years. She was also paying the school fees of her late sister’s two boys.
The following Sunday, after the service, the leader of her house fellowship took her aside. Some of the women had been talking, she said. Three of them could sit with her husband on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. One of the brothers worked near the pharmacy and could collect the prescriptions. Somebody’s son was a physiotherapy student and could help with the exercises on Saturdays.
Adunola smiled and held the older woman’s hand. “Thank you, ma. God bless you. We are managing.”
She told me later that “managing” was the most dishonest word she spoke that year. When I asked why she had refused, she was quiet for a while. “I am the welfare coordinator,” she said. “I am the one who carries rice to other people’s houses. If they start carrying rice to my house, what does that say about my faith?”
That question sits behind a great deal of hidden exhaustion in the church. Many faithful believers have reached the limit of their strength and cannot bring themselves to say so, because somewhere along the way they learned to read human limits as spiritual failure. Scripture tells a different story, and it starts with one of the greatest leaders Israel ever had.
A good man sitting alone
Israel had come out of Egypt. The Red Sea was behind them. The manna was falling every morning. Moses’ father-in-law Jethro came to visit, heard the whole story of deliverance and worshipped the LORD with him (Exodus 18:9-12). Then, the next day, he watched his son-in-law at work.
And it came to pass on the morrow, that Moses sat to judge the people: and the people stood by Moses from the morning unto the evening. And when Moses’ father in law saw all that he did to the people, he said, What is this thing that thou doest to the people? why sittest thou thyself alone, and all the people stand by thee from morning unto even? And Moses said unto his father in law, Because the people come unto me to enquire of God: When they have a matter, they come unto me; and I judge between one and another, and I do make them know the statutes of God, and his laws.
Look carefully at the scene, because it is full of good things. Moses was not lazy or proud or careless. He was serving. The people came to him “to enquire of God,” and he taught them “the statutes of God, and his laws.” This was godly work, done by a godly man, for the good of God’s people. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. The trouble lay in the way he was doing it.
“From the morning unto the evening.” The phrase appears twice in four verses. Jethro saw a long queue of people standing in the sun all day, and one man sitting at the end of it.
Punchline“Why sittest thou thyself alone?” That was the question. Jethro did not ask Moses why he was serving. He asked why he was serving alone.
And Moses’ answer was entirely reasonable. “Because the people come unto me.” They needed him. He was the one God had used at the sea. He was the one who went up the mountain. Who else could they bring their matters to? There is a kind of exhaustion that comes from neglect and laziness, and Scripture addresses it elsewhere. This was the other kind. It came from faithfulness without limits, from a good man who had quietly come to believe that every need in front of him was his alone to meet.
Adunola would have understood Moses. So might you.
Jethro’s diagnosis
Jethro then said something that every overwhelmed servant of God needs to hear: “The thing that thou doest is not good. Thou wilt surely wear away, both thou, and this people that is with thee: for this thing is too heavy for thee; thou art not able to perform it thyself alone” (Exodus 18:17-18).
Notice what kind of diagnosis this is. It is not a moral rebuke. Jethro does not say Moses lacks faith. He says the load is “too heavy.” The Hebrew word is kabed, the ordinary word for something weighty, a burden that presses down. It is a statement about weight and capacity, the kind of thing you might say about a loaded lorry on a bridge. Moses was a man, and the work was bigger than a man.
And notice who suffers when the limit is ignored: “both thou, and this people.” When a leader, a parent or a carer goes on past the point of strength, it is never only the overwhelmed person who pays. The people in the queue wait longer. Decisions get worse. Patience thins out. Mistakes multiply. A woman who drives through junctions without seeing them is a danger to herself and to every okada rider in Abeokuta.
Then Jethro gives his counsel:
Hearken now unto my voice, I will give thee counsel, and God shall be with thee: Be thou for the people to God-ward, that thou mayest bring the causes unto God: And thou shalt teach them ordinances and laws, and shalt shew them the way wherein they must walk, and the work that they must do. Moreover thou shalt provide out of all the people able men, such as fear God, men of truth, hating covetousness; and place such over them, to be rulers of thousands, and rulers of hundreds, rulers of fifties, and rulers of tens: And let them judge the people at all seasons: and it shall be, that every great matter they shall bring unto thee, but every small matter they shall judge: so shall it be easier for thyself, and they shall bear the burden with thee. If thou shalt do this thing, and God command thee so , then thou shalt be able to endure, and all this people shall also go to their place in peace.
Look at how the counsel begins and ends. “I will give thee counsel, and God shall be with thee.” And at the close: “If thou shalt do this thing, and God command thee so.” Jethro does not present the sharing of the load as a fall from faith into mere management. He presents it as a way of walking with God. Moses keeps the part that is truly his: standing before God for the people, teaching them, and handling the great matters. Others take the rest.
And the people chosen are not just anybody. They are “able men, such as fear God, men of truth, hating covetousness.” Sharing a burden well requires wisdom about who carries what. That is worth remembering, because some overwhelmed people have tried to delegate and been let down. The answer to a poor helper is a better choice of helper, not a return to doing everything alone.
Finally, there is the promise: “they shall bear the burden with thee... then thou shalt be able to endure.” Moses did not lose his calling by sharing it. The arrangement that looked like a reduction of his role was what allowed him to stay in it for forty years.
Your limits are not a verdict on your faith. They are part of being a creature, and God has made provision for them in the people He has placed around you.
The psalmist puts it simply: “For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust” (Psalm 103:14). God is never surprised to find that His servants are made of dust. He made them that way. It is only we who are surprised, and sometimes ashamed.
When Moses said, I cannot
Exodus 18 shows a man who needed someone else to point out his limits. Numbers 11 shows the same man discovering them for himself, in a far darker moment.
The people were complaining again, weeping at the doors of their tents for the meat and fish and cucumbers of Egypt. Moses heard it, and something in him broke. He spoke to God with a frankness that still shocks readers:
I am not able to bear all this people alone, because it is too heavy for me. And if thou deal thus with me, kill me, I pray thee, out of hand, if I have found favour in thy sight; and let me not see my wretchedness. And the LORD said unto Moses, Gather unto me seventy men of the elders of Israel, whom thou knowest to be the elders of the people, and officers over them; and bring them unto the tabernacle of the congregation, that they may stand there with thee. And I will come down and talk with thee there: and I will take of the spirit which is upon thee, and will put it upon them; and they shall bear the burden of the people with thee, that thou bear it not thyself alone.
“I am not able to bear all this people alone, because it is too heavy for me.” The same word for heavy appears again. And then comes a prayer that sounds very much like what we would now recognise as despair: “kill me, I pray thee, out of hand... and let me not see my wretchedness.”
Look at what God does with that prayer. He does not strike Moses down for his lack of faith. He does not lecture him on the miracles he has already seen. He answers the real problem. “Gather unto me seventy men.” Help is sent. And the help is spiritual as well as practical: “I will take of the spirit which is upon thee, and will put it upon them; and they shall bear the burden of the people with thee, that thou bear it not thyself alone.”
NuggetThere is great tenderness in that last phrase. That thou bear it not thyself alone. God’s answer to an overwhelmed servant was companionship in the work.
I need to say something plainly here. If your own prayers have begun to sound like Moses’ prayer in this chapter, if you have found yourself telling God that you would rather die than go on, please do not keep that to yourself. God was not angry with Moses, and He is not angry with you. But He sent Moses seventy people, and He wants you to have people too. Tell a trusted friend or your pastor today, and see a doctor. If you are in immediate danger, go to the nearest hospital emergency department or call emergency services. Exhaustion of this depth is often accompanied by depression, and depression is an illness that can be treated. Receiving that treatment is a way of accepting the help God has provided.
Hands that grew heavy
There is an earlier story in Exodus that belongs beside these two. Before Jethro ever arrived, Israel fought against Amalek at Rephidim. Joshua led the fighting in the valley. Moses stood on the hill with the rod of God in his hand.
And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed: and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed. But Moses’ hands were heavy; and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon; and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun. And Joshua discomfited Amalek and his people with the edge of the sword.
“But Moses’ hands were heavy.” It is the same family of words again. This time the weight is not a crowd of disputes but the simple physical tiredness of a man holding his arms up for hours. And the outcome of the battle seemed to depend on those arms.
Aaron and Hur did two things. First, they gave Moses a stone to sit on. They did not demand that he stand heroically until he collapsed. They found a way for him to rest while he continued. Second, they held up his hands, “the one on the one side, and the other on the other side.” And the result: “his hands were steady until the going down of the sun.”
Moses still held the rod. The calling was still his. But the steadiness came from the two men beside him. When the history of that day was written down, the victory belonged to God, Joshua fought in the valley, and Aaron and Hur were named in Scripture for holding up an old man’s arms. Nobody concluded that Moses had failed because he needed a stone and two friends.
Some of the most important ministry in the kingdom looks like this: the friend who drives you to the hospital, the deacon who takes over the accounts for three months, the sister who sits with your mother so that you can sleep. These people are holding up hands.
Jesus and His tired disciples
When we come to the Gospels, we find Jesus paying close attention to the limits of the people He led. Mark tells us that when the apostles returned from their first mission, they “told him all things, both what they had done, and what they had taught. And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat” (Mark 6:30-31).
Look at who noticed the need. The disciples were full of reports. Jesus saw that they had not eaten. He did not wait for one of them to faint before calling a halt, and He did not regard their need for food and quiet as a distraction from the kingdom. He took them away by boat. Even when the crowds ran ahead and Jesus was moved with compassion to teach them (Mark 6:34), the pattern of His care for His disciples remained. He knew they were dust.
But there is something even more striking in the life of Jesus. He Himself received help.
On the night of His arrest, He took Peter, James and John further into the garden of Gethsemane, “and began to be sorrowful and very heavy.” And He said to them, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death: tarry ye here, and watch with me” (Matthew 26:37-38). The eternal Son, facing the cross, asked His friends to stay awake with Him. He did not hide His anguish from them. He named it, and He asked for their presence.
The next morning, after the scourging, as they led Him out to Golgotha, “they laid hold upon one Simon, a Cyrenian, coming out of the country, and on him they laid the cross, that he might bear it after Jesus” (Luke 23:26). We must be careful here. Simon did not share in the work of atonement. Christ alone bore our sins in His own body on the tree, and nobody helped Him do that. But the beams of wood that day were too heavy for a body torn by Roman whips, and Jesus allowed another man to carry them. The Saviour of the world walked to the cross with a stranger carrying His load behind Him.
If Jesus could receive that help without any loss of glory, so can you.
The law of Christ needs receivers
Paul gathers all of this into one instruction to the churches of Galatia: “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).
We usually read that verse from one side only. We picture ourselves as the ones doing the bearing, and we ask whom we should be helping. That is a good question. But think about the verse from the other side for a moment. If burdens are to be borne by one another, then someone must be willing to have their burden borne. A church in which everyone wants to carry and nobody will be carried cannot keep this command. The person who always refuses help is quietly preventing others from fulfilling the law of Christ.
Paul uses the image of the body to make the same point:
For as we have many members in one body, and all members have not the same office: So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members one of another.
“Every one members one of another.” The members of a body do not merely work alongside each other. They belong to each other. To the Corinthians Paul adds, “the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee” (1 Corinthians 12:21). Notice which member he imagines making that boast: the eye, the head, the parts that seem most important. The danger of saying “I have no need of you” belongs especially to the gifted, the senior and the strong. Adunola had spent six years meeting needs. It had never occurred to her that her refusal to be helped was a way of saying to the body, I have no need of thee.
There is a rhythm in this. Writing about a collection for poor believers in Jerusalem, Paul told the Corinthians that the aim was not to burden one group and ease another, “But by an equality, that now at this time your abundance may be a supply for their want, that their abundance also may be a supply for your want” (2 Corinthians 8:14). Now at this time, you supply. Another time, you are supplied. That is how a family works. Seasons change. The one who carried rice last year may be the one who needs rice this year, and there is no shame in it.
A few verses later Paul adds that “every man shall bear his own burden” (Galatians 6:5), using a different word for the ordinary pack each person carries. Receiving help does not mean handing your whole life to other people. What the body shares is the weight that has become too heavy for one person, for a season.
How the early church shared the load
The book of Acts shows the church learning this lesson in its very first years. The community in Jerusalem was growing rapidly, and the daily distribution of food to widows had become a source of complaint.
And in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplied, there arose a murmuring of the Grecians against the Hebrews, because their widows were neglected in the daily ministration. Then the twelve called the multitude of the disciples unto them , and said, It is not reason that we should leave the word of God, and serve tables. Wherefore, brethren, look ye out among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business. But we will give ourselves continually to prayer, and to the ministry of the word.
The apostles faced exactly Moses’ temptation. They could have tried to do everything: preach, pray, teach, settle disputes and supervise the food distribution. Instead they said, “It is not reason that we should leave the word of God, and serve tables.” That is not contempt for serving tables. The men chosen for the task had to be “of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom,” and one of them was Stephen, the first martyr. Serving tables was holy work. It simply needed more hands.
And Luke tells us what happened next: “the word of God increased; and the number of the disciples multiplied in Jerusalem greatly” (Acts 6:7). Sharing the work did not slow the church down. It released it.
This has a word for church leaders. A congregation can unintentionally consume its most willing people. The same woman leads the children’s department, organises the harvest, sings in the choir and chairs the welfare committee, while dozens of others watch from the pews. When she finally burns out, we wonder what happened to her zeal. Pastors and leaders should notice who is carrying too much, and should build teams the way Jethro advised and the apostles practised. The health of the people who serve is part of the health of the church.
Learning to receive
PunchlineHow does an overwhelmed believer actually begin to receive help? Here are some practical steps, drawn from the passages we have read.
Name the load honestly. Moses said, “I am not able.” Jesus said, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful.” Both named what was happening. You may need to say to a trusted person, “I am not managing,” and then describe specifically what is too heavy. Vague distress is hard to help with. “I need someone to sit with my husband on Thursday evenings” is something people can actually do.
Let people help in the ways they can. Aaron and Hur brought a stone. Simon carried wood. Some help will be practical, some spiritual, some financial. Do not insist that help must look a certain way before you will accept it. And do not spend the energy you have just been given on apologising for needing it. A simple “thank you” honours the giver.
Look after your body. Some overwhelmed believers have not slept properly for months. They skip meals, ignore chest pains and live on sugar and adrenaline. Persistent exhaustion, rising blood pressure, panic, low mood and inability to concentrate are signals to be taken seriously. See a doctor. If your doctor or pastor suggests counselling, take it. These are among the ways God holds up your hands.
Keep the part that is truly yours. Jethro did not tell Moses to stop leading. He told him to focus on what only he could do. Ask God what in your present load belongs to you and what can be shared. A carer may still give the morning bath while others cover the evenings. A pastor may still preach while others run the building project.
Pray with honesty. Moses’ prayer in Numbers 11 was raw, and God answered it with help. Tell the Father exactly how heavy it is. He knows your frame.
And when the season changes, as it will, become an Aaron or a Hur for somebody else. That is the rhythm of the body: now at this time, and then at another time.
Adunola changed her mind three weeks after that Sunday. It was not a sermon that did it. Her blood pressure was 170 over 110 at a routine check, and the doctor, a quiet man near retirement, put down his pen and asked her who was helping her at home. When she said, “Nobody, I am managing,” he looked at her over his glasses for a long moment. “Madam,” he said, “you are not managing. You are being consumed.”
That evening she called her house fellowship leader and asked whether the offer still stood. It did. The older woman arrived the next day with a sheet of paper on which the rota had already been written out in blue biro, as though she had known Adunola would call. It went on the fridge, held up by a magnet shaped like a pineapple. Tuesday and Thursday evenings, three women from the fellowship. Prescriptions on Fridays, a brother who worked nearby. Saturday mornings, a physiotherapy student who made her husband laugh.
The first Thursday, Adunola went to bed at nine o’clock and slept until five. She told me she cried in the morning, partly from relief and partly from shame, and that the shame took longer to leave than the tiredness did.
She is still the welfare coordinator. But the committee works differently now. She has a deputy, and a team of six, and a rule that no single person carries any family’s needs alone. “I used to think the strong ones were the ones who never needed help,” she said. “Now I think the strong ones are the ones who let the body be a body.”
Perhaps you are sitting where Moses sat, alone from morning until evening, with a queue of needs stretching into the distance. Hear Jethro’s question again: Why sittest thou thyself alone? The load may truly be too heavy for you. That is not a failure of faith. It is a call to let others hold up your hands, so that you may be able to endure.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- In what areas of your life are you “sitting alone” from morning until evening? What has kept you from asking for help?
- Have you ever read your own tiredness as a sign of spiritual failure? How do Exodus 18 and Numbers 11 challenge that reading?
- Who has been an Aaron or a Hur to you in a past season? Have you thanked them?
- What would it mean for your church or fellowship to practise Galatians 6:2 from both sides, giving and receiving?
- What part of your present load is truly yours, and what could be shared with others?
This Week
This week, write down everything you are currently carrying: work, family, ministry, finances, care for others. Beside each item, mark one of three things: “mine to carry”, “could be shared” or “too heavy for me”. Then choose one item from the last two columns and ask a specific person for specific help with it before the week ends. If you have not seen a doctor in the past year and you are feeling the strain, book that appointment as well.
A Prayer
Father, You know my frame, and You remember that I am dust. I confess that I have tried to carry alone what You never asked me to carry alone, and that I have been ashamed to let others help me. Thank You for the people You have placed around me. Give me the humility to receive their help, the honesty to tell them what I need, and the wisdom to know what is truly mine to carry. Hold up my hands through Your people, as You held up the hands of Moses. Restore my body and my soul. And when my season changes, make me a burden-bearer for someone else. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.