From emotional neglect to spiritual disconnection, discover the toxic patterns that can creep in—and how to fight back with faith.

Willie Robertson Speaks on the Transformative and Far-Reaching Power of the Gospel

5 Ways to Equip Teens with Spiritual Independence after Graduation

As a women’s ministry leader, you’re an event planner, a teacher, a mentor, and a counselor. You’re on call when a woman is in crisis. You’re meeting with new moms, empty nesters, and women of every life stage in between. You’re developing discipleship programs to reach single, divorced, widowed, and married women. You’re planning Bible studies that are accessible for women whether they’re at home full-time or in the workplace. And added to all these ministry demands, you have your own responsibilities and cares. The idea of rest isn’t new to you. You’ve probably encouraged other women to follow rhythms of rest, and you may have even organized a retreat on the topic. You’ve likely pointed women in your church to Jesus’s promise of rest in Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” But do you follow your own counsel? As a ministry leader, you likely have more people leaning on you and looking to you for care than you have people who are caring for you. This reality can subtly reinforce the false belief that your needs are less important than those of the women you serve. But in your role’s unique demands on your time, energy, and inbox, you’re “heavy laden.” Christ’s invitation to rest is for you, not just for the women you serve. So how can you practically look to Christ for rest amid ministry demands? Identify Your Needs and Burdens Jesus wants us to bring our worries and burdens to him because he cares for us (1 Pet. 5:7). But before we can do this, we need to consider what exactly is burdening us. Rather than living with a general sense of overwhelm, take time to identify how particular aspects of your role may feel burdensome because of how God uniquely created you. Christ’s invitation to rest is for you, not just for the women you serve. For example, if you’re an extroverted people person, the details of event planning may stress you out and make you feel like you’re always one step behind. If you’re deeply empathetic, being constantly called on with each new care crisis may leave you feeling tapped out and emotionally exhausted. Identifying areas of need can inform how you seek rest. Remember God’s Character and Love As we seek to meet the needs of so many others, it’s encouraging to remember that the God we serve isn’t needy (Acts 17:24–25). He always has infinite capacity to carry whatever we bring to him. He’s the God who never slumbers or sleeps (Ps. 121:4), but he doesn’t ask the same of us. Jesus isn’t a demanding taskmaster but a compassionate Elder Brother eager to give his yoke of rest in exchange for your burdens. It’s only as you begin to truly understand his heart for you that you’ll trust him enough to make time for the rest you need. If God didn’t spare his own Son’s life to take care of our deepest soul need—forgiveness for sin—how much more will he provide all we need for rest amid ministry (Rom. 8:32). Even if you or others overlook your needs, God doesn’t. In contrast to the many who bring their needs and cares to you, Jesus offers to carry your burdens for you. Accept Jesus’s Invitation If we’re honest, Jesus’s call to come to him for rest often doesn’t feel as pressing as the items sitting on our to-do lists—the texts and phone calls we need to return, the events to arrange, and the meetings we must attend. I remember from my time serving in a women’s ministry leadership role that my own burdens were the least of my concerns most weeks. The other voices were much louder than Jesus’s. I trusted he’d wait for me with patience and gentleness, but I feared that the women I served would be disappointed, frustrated, or displeased if I didn’t respond to them promptly. But we won’t find the rest we need or be equipped to care for the women we serve unless we prioritize our own time with the Lord. God has called you to this ministry role to care for his weary sheep, but your service doesn’t exempt you from needing him. Don’t let your time in the Word and prayer be crowded out by your to-do list. Come to Jesus first. Then serve out of the strength he gives you. God has called you to care for his weary sheep, but your service doesn’t exempt you from needing him. Consider what’s practically restful for you, particularly in light of the unique needs and burdens you’ve identified. What activities relax you, fill you up, or leave you energized? Is it reading a good book, taking a walk outside, doing a craft, or something else? Create a plan to regularly rest—daily, weekly, quarterly, and yearly—that includes time with the Lord and time for other activities that help you recharge. Taking time out of your ministry work to rest may feel selfish—even impossible—at first, but this is a practical way you can demonstrate trust in God’s power to make your ministry fruitful rather than depending on your finite strength. A table’s been set for you, the event’s already been planned—Jesus invites you to come and enjoy the rest he’s prepared for you.

According to Genesis, the curse resulting from the fall of humanity is all-encompassing. The breach between humans and God (both judicial and relational) bled into blame-shifting toward one another. The earth, crying out against human violence and death, yields its produce grudgingly, groaning for release from its involuntary captivity. And, launching the story behind all stories in the Bible, the war of the Serpent’s surrogates (evident as soon as Cain) and the woman’s offspring (Abel) ensues. No longer holy, endowed with a holy calling, living in a holy land with God in peace and safety, the royal family lives “east of Eden.” At the same time as he announces the curse, God issues a surprising announcement of a promised redemption and institutes a regime of common grace as space for this gracious pledge to be realized in history. For example, when God elects Abraham and Sarah out of sheer grace as the parents of a chosen nation, the promise continues with a typological family (ethnic descendants) and ultimately with the unilateral and unconditional announcement of a single offspring in whom all peoples will find a sufficient Mediator. From Sarah’s fallow womb, the promised offspring of Eve appears. Reformation theology has always been eager to affirm that the nature created by God remains good yet corrupted; depravity is total in its extensiveness (heart, intellect, will, and body), not in intensiveness (as if God’s image could be eradicated). There’s no safe landing for Christ when he comes in gracious redemption. Without the new birth, no part of the world or the human self welcomes him. Yet, as expounded by the Calvinist Isaac Watts in the hymn “Joy to the World,” the remedy reaches “far as the curse is found.” Therefore, it’s reductive to define the gospel simply as the solution to one of these problems. Nevertheless, Reformed theologians affirm justification as the basis for believers’ sanctification and glorification. Scripture’s Storyline Christ himself is the solution to the curse’s extensiveness. He’s the incarnate gospel. Jesus said he was the unifying feature of Holy Scripture (Luke 24:27; John 5:39). Irenaeus is quoted as saying that Scripture’s coherence lies in “Christ, the mosaic,” in which each piece has its particular redemptive-historical place. Christ himself is the solution to the curse’s extensiveness. He’s the incarnate gospel. The Protestant reformers and their confessional heirs said that the scope of Scripture is Christ as he’s clothed in his gospel. There are, of course, other topics, genres, supporting actors, and subplots, but all are subservient to this single message that grows clearer as the story unfolds. Thus, there can’t be many gospels but only one, albeit with many facets. The good news is as encompassing as the bad news—it’s even more so, since it doesn’t announce a mere return to a pristine condition. Rather, it announces a future consummated condition that’s never been experienced by any mortal except for our exalted brother, Jesus (1 Cor. 2:9; Heb. 2:8–9). Expounded in narrative, poetry, apocalyptic, wisdom, and didactic literature, Scripture’s unfolding drama has given rise to distinct disciplines for its interpretation, including biblical studies, biblical theology, and systematic theology. This is the proper order of interpretation, as the varied biblical texts evidence a coherent historical plot whose implications can be articulated with logical interconnections. Like a topographical map, biblical theology displays the peaks and valleys along with the streams that flow into the mighty river that leads to Christ. More like a street map, systematic theology exhibits the inner connections of all the blessings we have in Christ. Some of the tensions in defining the gospel no doubt turn on whether one privileges the former (e.g., the story of Israel) or the latter (e.g., the “plan of salvation”). However, these should be seen as integrally related. The drama in Scripture’s storyline is the source of the doctrine, which leads to doxology and discipleship. From the drama we learn, for example, that Christ was crucified, buried, and raised on the third day in accordance with the Scriptures (1 Cor. 15:3–4). Yet it’s the doctrine that announces its significance for us: “[He] was delivered up for our trespasses and raised for our justification” (Rom. 4:25). I suppose that if I had to summarize the gospel in a sentence, I couldn’t find a better one than that. We may enter the gospel mansion by many doors, but only with the confidence that justification secures us before a holy God can these other entrances be safe passages rather than a bewildering and fearful maze. Good News of Justification Just as there are many narrative subplots supporting one unfolding drama, there are many doctrines that indicate the lavish grace that the Father has displayed toward us in Christ and by his Spirit. However, apart from the justification of the ungodly, even the most majestic facets become condemning law for me as a sinner. The sovereign God who elects, showing mercy to whom he will, can only be terrifying apart from the assurance that I’m justified through faith in Christ alone. Christ’s return in glory can only be an anxiety-provoking prospect when Jesus himself tells me he’ll separate the sheep from the goats in final judgment. What good news could it be to me that the Spirit gradually conforms me to Christ’s image when I know that this good work begun in me won’t be perfect in this life? Apart from the certainty that I’m already declared righteous before God, that the throne of judgment has become for me a throne of grace, sanctification threatens with the ominous declaration that without holiness no one will see the Lord (Heb. 12:14). The drama in Scripture’s storyline is the source of the doctrine, which leads to doxology and discipleship. A mere cross-centered theology can’t account sufficiently for the salvific import of the Word’s assumption of our nature. Yet the incarnation by itself doesn’t remove the obstacle to fellowship with God. We also need the resurrection and ascension. The resurrection not only proves Jesus’s divinity but is a further moment of his saving work. Moreover, the ascension of Christ isn’t merely an exclamation point to the resurrection but is another stage in his accomplishment of redemption. Through all these events in Christ’s life, those who are united to him are forgiven, justified, sanctified, and glorified. Consequently, the gospel can’t be reduced to justification. Yet apart from this fact—our guilt imputed to Christ and his righteousness imputed to us—there’s no good news. When the justified hear the rest of the good news, they rejoice, but when these other blessings are meant to replace the problem of objective guilt before God, they become another gospel altogether. Christ is victor over the evil powers, to be sure, but the ground of his triumph was canceling the legal record of debt by nailing it to the cross (Col. 2:14–15). Jesus came to destroy death, but how? Death isn’t ultimately in the hands of Satan and his minions. It’s a legal sentence imposed by God for our treason. “The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law” (1 Cor. 15:56). When the charges are canceled, so is the sentence—the Devil has no legal grounds to keep us in the grave (v. 57). That’s good news.