Sometimes Rest Is the Holiest Thing You Can Do

"Sometimes rest is the holiest thing you can do."

Someone said that to me once.

At the time, I was working a full-time job and volunteering as a hospital chaplain, covering 12- and sometimes 24-hour rotations. One Sunday morning, after finishing a 24-hour shift, I was sitting in the hospital parking lot trying to muster the strength to get to church.

Sunday and church were synonymous in my mind. Faith meant showing up. Pushing through. Doing the right thing.

When the chaplain relieving me saw how exhausted I was, she listened quietly as I explained how I was trying to figure out how to make it to service.

She looked at me gently and said,

“Carla, sometimes the holiest thing you can do is rest.”

I had never considered that.

Holiness, to me, meant effort. Discipline. Sacrifice. Showing up even when it hurt.

Rest felt indulgent.

But that morning, I went home and slept.

And something shifted in me.

Because we forget something dangerous:

We are not machines.

We are human.

We push and push and push ourselves until one day we are surprised by how close we are to breaking.

I was reminded of that lesson again at a critical junction a little over a year ago.

I had planned a Christmas market tour across Europe for months. Multiple cities. Carefully curated. The kind of trip you tell yourself you’ve earned.

I boarded the plane. Four hours into the flight, a snowstorm prevented landing. The pilot turned the plane around midair. Eight hours later, I stepped off exactly where I had started.

Rebooked for the next day.

The next day brought delays. Missed connections. Options to reroute. And somewhere in the middle of it all, I was on business calls — resolving issues that, in hindsight, could have waited.

I was physically heading to vacation, but mentally still at work.

When I finally hung up my last call, something became clear.

I wasn’t just tired.

I was bone tired.

The kind of tired that sits in your soul.

The kind that no vacation itinerary can fix.

I watched as passengers boarded the flight I was supposed to take. I stood there, bags in hand, and it felt like I was outside my body watching my own life unfold.

It was a crossroads.

Board the plane and keep performing.

Or choose something different.

In that quiet airport moment, I chose my life.

I chose me.

I think it was the first time I had ever done that.

As a mother, I chose my children.

As a daughter, I chose duty.

As a friend, I chose loyalty.

As an employee, I chose the company.

And I will never regret choosing God.

But that day, I chose myself.

I walked out of the airport and went home.

I slept for two straight days.

That’s how tired I was — and I didn’t even know it.

Here is what I have learned:

Sometimes burnout doesn’t announce itself with drama.

Sometimes it whispers through exhaustion we normalize.

Sometimes the bravest decision is not to push through — but to step away.

Rest is not weakness.

Rest is wisdom.

Rest is stewardship of the life God entrusted to you.

Choosing yourself is not selfish when your soul is on empty.

It can be the very thing that saves your life.

So if you are tired — truly tired — hear this:

You are allowed to stop.

You are allowed to reschedule.

You are allowed to disappoint expectations.

You are allowed to sleep.

Sometimes the holiest thing you can do

is close your eyes

and let God hold the world together without you.