The Weight You Don’t Have to Carry

Cindy and I were driving to the airport Tuesday morning, headed to Oregon to spend a few weeks with our oldest son, his wife, and our grandson. I was ready for a break—time to laugh, play, and just be. I’d busted my tail to get there. Inbox cleared. Desk empty. Team ready. I told them to make the calls, run the show. That’s how I lead. I give permission—my first blink is to say yes. I equip people and step back.

But the last few weeks, I’d slipped. Not in my work—my heart. I’d started carrying the stuff I tell other pastors to drop. The pressure to keep everyone happy. The weight of their expectations. The residue from coaching calls and church meetings that sticks with you. I didn’t see it, but Cindy did. She said, plain and simple, “I feel like an appliance. Like I’m just along for the ride in your life.”

That hurt. I’m the guy who preaches against taking on people’s problems. I know the theology—pastors equip, not rescue. That’s Jesus’ job, not mine. I’ve trained thousands of leaders to lead free, not buried. But I’d drifted into this quiet martyrdom, and it was hurting the person I love most. So I listened.

In the car between home and Grand Rapids, Cindy let it out—her joys, her frustrations, her fair shots at me. I didn’t argue or fix it. I just took it in. At one point, she said, “Thanks for not jumping in. It feels good to just say it.” That stuck with me. It made me wonder how often do the people we love get sidelined by the people we lead? How often does ministry leave us too drained for the ones we’re doing this for? And how many of us are sinking under a weight God never meant for us to carry? 

You might not have someone like Cindy to say it straight. But I’d bet someone in your life—your spouse, your kids, maybe you—feels pushed aside by your role. You’re not alone. I’ve been there. Still am some days. We weren’t built to carry everyone’s emotional load. That’s not leadership. It’s codependence with a spiritual label. It’s a trap that steals your joy, your relationships, and the fire you felt when you began.

When Jesus said, “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” He wasn’t just talking to the lost. He was talking to us—leaders who think carrying it all is the gig we signed up for in ministry. He’s offering a way back to health, to leadership that doesn’t break you or your family.

There’s a difference between walking with people and carrying them. One builds connection. The other burns you out. I’m still learning this, but here’s what I know—four permissions you might need today:

• Let people feel without fixing them.
  You don’t have to solve their pain. Sitting with someone—just being there—is enough. It’s what Jesus did—He felt with people before He acted. That’s empathy, and it’s stronger than any advice.
• Their crisis isn’t your job.
  There’s a Savior. And you’re not Him. You can support people without taking their story home with you. Point them to Jesus, not your shoulders. You’re the guide, not the pack mule.
• Put your spouse first.
  Not your sermon. Your staff. Or the board. Your spouse. Ministry doesn’t get to make them feel like a sidekick. Cindy’s my partner, not my assistant. Your spouse is your covenant, not your crew.
• Be human.
  Not a hero. Not a machine. Just you—tired, flawed, trying your best. The people you serve need to see it—it lets them be human, too. So ditch the untouchable pastor act. It’s killing you slowly. 

You can’t love people well if you’re crushed by the idea that their well-being depends on you. That’s not love—it’s ego. It's why I talk about WholeCare™ — not a program, but a way to stay human, connected, and grounded. It’s why I’m writing Ministry Cancer: Dying to Serve, which will be released later this year, to help leaders break free from what’s draining them.

This isn’t a warning. It’s a way back. Back to your people. Back to the calling that used to light you up, not weigh you down. You don’t have to carry what’s not yours. Laying it down doesn’t make you weak—it makes you wise. It makes you the leader your church needs, not because you do it all, but because you know what to let go.

Close the laptop. Step away from being everyone’s answer. Go listen to the voice that matters most—your spouse, your kids, your own heart. They don’t need you to be a savior. They just need you.◼︎ 

Tim Eldred has spent over 35 years in pastoral ministry and coaches pastors and churches who are ready to move beyond merely surviving. He founded The Authentic Pastor to help ministry leaders find freedom from the pressures and systems that wear them down.