When Your Resurrection High Wears Off

Encouragement for the Woman Who Gave it All

Apr 09, 2026

a blanket on a table next to a potted plant — Photo by Svitlana on Unsplash

Fuzzy Pants and Couch Time

It happened Monday morning. I had served at five of our church’s nine Easter services that weekend.

I attended the Good Friday service for my own edification. Served for three services on Saturday. And two more on Sunday.

And I loved every single minute of it.

I greeted. I smiled. I pointed people toward open seats and offered tissues to the ones who cried when the choir sang. I watched families reunite, children and adults dressed in their ‘Sunday’ best, and people meet Jesus for the very first time.

It was holy work. Sacred exhaustion. Everything I wanted to give.

And then Easter Sunday came to an end.

By 2pm, I turned to my husband and asked him to cancel our brunch reservation at one of my favorite restaurants. Not postpone. Cancel. I had nothing left. I was at full capacity.

We decided to pick up Italian deli sandwiches from our favorite local spot, came home, and I put on my fuzzy pants. You know the ones. The pants that say, “I am officially done being a person today.”

By 4pm, we were both fighting to keep our eyes open.

“We must be getting old,” my husband laughed.

“It’s not old,” I said with a half smile. “It’s empty.”

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

— Matthew 11:28

Here’s the thing no one talks about after Easter: the crash.

We spend weeks preparing. We fast. We pray. We serve. We show up with everything we’ve got and we should. Resurrection Sunday deserves our full hearts and our open hands.

But when Monday comes… when the sanctuary is empty and the decorations are packed away... when real life starts knocking again with bills, and deadlines, and the 47 things you put on hold “until after Easter”...

Sometimes we crash.

And sometimes we feel guilty about it.

***

When Your Feelings Tell You Otherwise...

Can I tell you something that occurred to me?

As I sat on that couch Sunday afternoon, fuzzy pants on, sandwich half-eaten, eyes barely open, a familiar voice started whispering:

“You should be celebrating, not collapsing.”

“Other people served just as much and they’re fine.”

“What kind of Christian can’t even make it through the day?”

“You’re supposed to be filled with resurrection power, not drained by it.”

Maybe you’ve heard those whispers too.

Maybe you’ve spent years believing that exhaustion after serving is somehow a faith failure. That if you were really walking in the Spirit, you’d have boundless energy. That needing rest means you’re doing something wrong.

Sweet friend, that’s a lie. And I’m ready to stop believing it.

***

The Deeper Truth

Here’s what I know to be true:

Jesus withdrew. After feeding the 5,000, after healing the sick, after pouring Himself out, He got in a boat. He went to a quiet place. He stepped away from the crowds who needed Him.

Elijah collapsed. After his greatest victory on Mount Carmel, fire from heaven, prophets defeated, God glorified, he ran into the wilderness and asked God to let him die. And what did God do? Scold him? Tell him to push through? No. He sent an angel with bread and water. Twice. And then let him sleep.

David cried out. “I am worn out from my groaning. All night long I flood my bed with weeping” (Psalm 6:6). The man after God’s own heart? Exhausted. Depleted. Honest about it.

Even the disciples. After the most miraculous weekend in human history, they went back to fishing because they didn’t know what else to do.

Exhaustion after pouring out is not a faith failure. It’s a human experience. And last time I checked, we’re still very much human.

***

What This Means For You

If you’re reading this in your own version of fuzzy pants...

If your body is tired and your mind is foggy and your soul is quietly whispering, “Can I rest now?”...

The answer is yes.

Yes, you can rest.
Yes, you can cancel the plans.
Yes, you can eat a simple sandwich and call it a feast.
Yes, you can sit on the couch at 4pm and let your eyes close without guilt.

The same Jesus who rose from the grave is the One who said, “Come to Me... and I will give you rest.”

He didn’t say, “Come to Me once you’ve recovered on your own.”

He didn’t say, “Come to Me once you’ve caught up on everything you missed.”

He said, “Come. Now. As you are. Weary and burdened and still in your fuzzy pants.”

***

Remember This Truth

Today, I’m giving you permission, not that you need mine, but sometimes it helps to hear it from someone who’s been there:

Rest is not laziness.
Recovery is not weakness.
And slowing down after giving everything? That’s not failure. That’s wisdom.

The resurrection didn’t end on Sunday. The power of what Jesus did is still working, in you, through you, and yes, even when you’re too tired to feel it.

So rest, sweet friend. He’s got you.

***

A Prayer for My Sister🙏🏼

Father God,

I lift up my sister who is reading these words right now. The one who gave everything she had and is now sitting in the aftermath, wondering why rest feels so hard to receive.

Meet her in her fuzzy pants, Lord. Meet her on the couch at 4pm with her eyes barely open. Meet her in the guilt she feels for needing to stop.

Remind her that You are not disappointed in her exhaustion. You are not keeping score. You are simply inviting her to come... just as she is.

Give her permission to rest without guilt. Restore what has been poured out. And whisper to her heart what she most needs to hear: “I’ve got you. Rest now.”

In Jesus’ name, Amen.🕊️

An Invitation

Before you scroll away, I want to ask you something:

What does your version of “fuzzy pants” look like?

Maybe it’s your favorite hoodie. Maybe it’s the corner of the couch where you can finally exhale. Maybe it’s that one meal you eat when you just can’t anymore.

Reply or leave a comment and tell me. I’d love to hear from you. Because there’s something powerful about knowing we’re not alone in this.

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