 By: Pastor Dr. Princess Millens, Blessed and Beautiful International Some seasons make looking too far ahead feel like too much. Tomorrow feels heavy. Next week feels impossible. And the thought of carrying what you are carrying for another month, another year, or sometimes even another day can feel overwhelming. Grief can do that. And grief does not only come when someone dies. We grieve relationships, dreams, identities, opportunities, seasons, disappointments, betrayals, changes we never asked for, and lives that did not turn out the way we thought they would. Sometimes those losses come one at a time. Sometimes they come in layers. And sometimes a person can carry so much for so long that somewhere deep inside they begin to wonder, Do I even want to keep doing this? If you have ever found yourself in that kind of place, I want you to know Scripture doesn't hide from those moments. It takes us right into them. Scripture Focus - 1 Kings 19:1–8 “And the angel of the LORD came back the second time, and touched him, and said, ‘Arise and eat, because the journey is too great for you.’” - 1 Kings 19:7 NKJV Elijah knew what it felt like to reach the end of himself. This prophet had seen God move powerfully. He had experienced victory. He knew God's voice. He had witnessed God's faithfulness. But in 1 Kings 19, Elijah became so overwhelmed that he sat under a tree and told God he had had enough. He did not simply say, “Lord, I am tired.” He said, in essence, I do not want to keep living like this. That part of Elijah's story matters. Because sometimes we have unintentionally made people believe that if they really love God, really trust God, or really have faith, they should never reach a place of deep emotional despair. But Elijah did. And I love God's response. God did not shame him. God did not accuse him of lacking faith. God did not give him a lecture. God cared and tended to him. He let Elijah rest. He fed him. He touched him. Then the angel said something I believe somebody needs to hear today: “The journey is too great for you.” In other words, yes, this is a lot. God acknowledged the weight of what Elijah was carrying in that moment. And maybe that is where hope begins for some of us. Not by pretending that everything is fine. Not by minimizing the pain. Not by forcing ourselves to be strong. Maybe hope begins when we can finally admit, This has been too much for me. Paul understood that kind of pressure too. In 2 Corinthians 1:8, he wrote that he and those with him were “burdened beyond measure, above strength, so that we despaired even of life.” I have always appreciated the honesty of that passage. Paul was a man of faith, but he also knew what it meant to feel crushed beneath the weight of what he was carrying. Later, in 2 Corinthians 4:8–9, he gives us language that so many of us know well: “We are hard-pressed on every side, yet not crushed; we are perplexed, but not in despair.” Hard-pressed. Perplexed. Knocked down. Those words do not describe a life untouched by difficulty. They describe someone who has been through something. Maybe you have been through something too. Maybe you are still going through it. And perhaps the hardest part is that you cannot see how everything is going to work out. But here is what I want you to hear: You don't have to see the whole road to take the next step. You do not have to figure out next year today. Sometimes you cannot even figure out next week. That is okay. Sometimes the grace to keep living comes one day at a time. One prayer at a time. One conversation at a time. One meal at a time. One appointment at a time. One breath at a time. Sometimes hope is not a loud declaration that everything is suddenly wonderful. Sometimes hope sounds like, I am still here. And for today, that is enough. Psalm 118:17 gives us a declaration to hold on to: “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD.” Sometimes we may have to speak that over ourselves before we fully feel it. I will live. Not because I understand everything. Not because the grief has disappeared. Not because what happened did not hurt. But because my story is still being written. There is still life beyond this moment, even if I cannot see it yet. There is still purpose beyond this pain, even if I cannot feel it yet. God still meets people underneath broom trees, in overwhelming pressure, in grief, in confusion, and in places where tomorrow feels impossible. And sometimes He does not show us the whole journey. Sometimes He simply gives us enough grace for today. Lesson to Carry With You You do not have to see your entire future to choose life today. When grief, loss, emotional exhaustion, and disappointment become heavier than you know how to carry, please do not believe that you have to carry them alone. Reach for God. And reach for people. Let somebody know when the journey has become too great for you. Sometimes faith looks like prayer. Sometimes faith looks like worship. And sometimes faith looks like making the phone call, sitting with a counselor, calling a friend, talking with your pastor, or telling someone you trust, “I am not okay, and I need you to stay with me through this.” There is no shame in needing help carrying what has become too heavy. Today does not have to answer every question about tomorrow. For today, choose the next breath. The next step. The next conversation. The next moment. And when tomorrow comes, there will be grace waiting for you there too. Prayer Heavenly Father, Thank You for being a God who meets us in the places where life feels heavier than we know how to carry. For the person reading this who is grieving, overwhelmed, exhausted, or struggling to see beyond today, meet them right where they are. Remind them that You are near. When their strength is gone, sustain them. When their thoughts become heavy, surround them with truth, love, and safe people. Give them courage to speak when they need help and the wisdom to receive support when the journey has become too great to carry alone. Lord, breathe hope into places that have felt hopeless. Give them grace for this day, strength for this moment, and enough light for the next step. Let the declaration magnify in their hearts again: “I shall not die, but live.” Thank You that their story is not over. We praise Your name always and give You all the honor and Glory. In Jesus’ name, Amen. Reflection Questions
A Final Word Much of my work centers around helping people recognize the hidden weight they have been carrying, especially the grief, emotional overload, and expectations that can quietly accumulate over time. In my newest book, The Cost of Carrying Everything, I explore what happens when being “the strong one” becomes a way of life and how carrying too much for too long can affect us emotionally, spiritually, relationally, and even physically. It is available, along with my Kingdom Book Award Finalist Joy Comes in the Morning: A 28-Day Devotional for Women Who Grieve at www.booksbydrprincess.com. If this devotional spoke to a place in you that has been carrying more than anyone knows, I want to remind you: You were never created to carry everything. And you do not have to figure everything out today. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stay. Take the next breath. Receive the next bit of grace. And give tomorrow the opportunity to become something you cannot see yet. May the Lord bless and keep you, make His face shine on you, be gracious to you, turn His face toward you, and give you peace.
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