The Snooze Button I Hit Four Times Before My Feet Ever Touched the Floor
The Snooze Button I Hit Four Times Before My Feet Ever Touched the Floor
RedeemedExistence daily devotional, October 30, 2026
My alarm went off at five fifteen this morning and I hit snooze without even opening my eyes, the way my thumb has learned to do without asking my brain for permission. Then I did it again at five twenty four. And five thirty three. By the time I actually sat up, the sun was already doing more than I was, and I lay there for a second doing the math on how little sleep I had actually gotten and how much I still had to do before lunch. I am not talking about one rough night. I am talking about a tiredness that has been sitting on my chest for weeks now, the kind that a good night's sleep does not touch, because it was never only about the hours. Work has been heavy, a friend from my old recovery group relapsed last month and I have been carrying that call more than I realized, and somewhere in the middle of trying to hold all of it up I stopped noticing that I was running on fumes until my body finally refused to pretend otherwise.
I spent a long stretch of my life treating exhaustion as a problem to be solved with more. More coffee, more hours, more of whatever substance I thought would borrow me a little energy from tomorrow to spend today. I never once let myself just be tired, because being tired felt like losing, and I did not know how to lose anything without reaching for something to numb the losing. Twelve years sober now, and I would like to tell you I have outgrown that instinct completely. I have not. I have just traded the bottle for busyness, filling every tired hour with one more task instead of one more drink, convinced that if I just push through hard enough the exhaustion will finally give up before I do.
It never has. Pushing through has never once actually rested me. It has only ever bought me a few more hours before the same weight sat back down on my chest, heavier for having been ignored. Isaiah describes exactly the gap I kept running into, between my own effort and the strength I actually needed. "He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength" (Isaiah 40:29, NKJV). Notice who the power belongs to in that sentence. Not the weak, gathering it up through sheer will. Him, giving it, to people who by definition have none to produce on their own. I have spent years trying to will my way into strength I was never going to manufacture by trying harder at being tired less.
What stops me every time I read further into that same chapter is the order of the promise. "But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint" (Isaiah 40:31, NKJV). Waiting comes first. I have always wanted the running and the eagle's wings without the waiting, as if I could skip straight to renewed strength while still refusing to actually stop and be still long enough to receive it. David knew this rest from somewhere even quieter than waiting. He did not describe the Lord as someone who simply gave him strength from a distance. He described a Shepherd who made him lie down. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul" (Psalm 23:1-3, NKJV). Makes me. I do not choose the green pasture for myself most days. Left alone, I choose one more task instead.
This is exactly where abiding in the Spirit does what my own scheduling never could. Jesus did not tell the exhausted crowd around Him to try harder at managing their burdens more efficiently. He told them to come to a Person. "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-30, NKJV). I keep trying to carry my friend's relapse and my own workload and twelve years of recovery vigilance all under one yoke built entirely out of my own strength, and Jesus is simply offering to carry it with me under His instead, which was never going to feel heavier, only lighter, because He was never straining under it in the first place.
God told Moses something in the middle of a genuinely exhausting season of leading a people who complained constantly and tested his patience daily. "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest" (Exodus 33:14, NKJV). Not a technique. A Presence. And Paul, writing from inside a weakness he had begged God three times to remove, received an answer that still undoes me every time I reread it. "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9, NKJV). My weakness was never the obstacle to God's strength showing up. It is the exact place His strength shows up best, which means this tiredness sitting on my chest is not a failure I need to hide from Him. It is an invitation I keep trying to decline by hitting snooze one more time.
I finally put my phone down last night before I meant to, no new episode, no last email, just lights off and a short, honest prayer that I was tired and did not know how to stop being tired on my own. I slept better than I have in weeks, not because the workload shrank or the phone call about my friend got any easier to carry, but because I finally let myself be the weak one in that sentence from Isaiah instead of the one pretending to have enough might on my own.
If you are lying there this morning doing the same math I was, counting hours and coming up short no matter how you add it, know this. God is alive, and He already sees exactly how much weight you have been carrying alone. He has a plan for you that does not require you to earn your rest first, and He has a Presence that goes with you into the exhaustion itself, not just after you have finally fixed it. He will never leave you to run on fumes by yourself, not this morning and not tonight.
Scriptures used (NKJV): Isaiah 40:29; Isaiah 40:31; Psalm 23:1-3; Matthew 11:28-30; Exodus 33:14; 2 Corinthians 12:9.
RedeemedExistence daily devotional, October 30, 2026
My alarm went off at five fifteen this morning and I hit snooze without even opening my eyes, the way my thumb has learned to do without asking my brain for permission. Then I did it again at five twenty four. And five thirty three. By the time I actually sat up, the sun was already doing more than I was, and I lay there for a second doing the math on how little sleep I had actually gotten and how much I still had to do before lunch. I am not talking about one rough night. I am talking about a tiredness that has been sitting on my chest for weeks now, the kind that a good night's sleep does not touch, because it was never only about the hours. Work has been heavy, a friend from my old recovery group relapsed last month and I have been carrying that call more than I realized, and somewhere in the middle of trying to hold all of it up I stopped noticing that I was running on fumes until my body finally refused to pretend otherwise.
I spent a long stretch of my life treating exhaustion as a problem to be solved with more. More coffee, more hours, more of whatever substance I thought would borrow me a little energy from tomorrow to spend today. I never once let myself just be tired, because being tired felt like losing, and I did not know how to lose anything without reaching for something to numb the losing. Twelve years sober now, and I would like to tell you I have outgrown that instinct completely. I have not. I have just traded the bottle for busyness, filling every tired hour with one more task instead of one more drink, convinced that if I just push through hard enough the exhaustion will finally give up before I do.
It never has. Pushing through has never once actually rested me. It has only ever bought me a few more hours before the same weight sat back down on my chest, heavier for having been ignored. Isaiah describes exactly the gap I kept running into, between my own effort and the strength I actually needed. "He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength" (Isaiah 40:29, NKJV). Notice who the power belongs to in that sentence. Not the weak, gathering it up through sheer will. Him, giving it, to people who by definition have none to produce on their own. I have spent years trying to will my way into strength I was never going to manufacture by trying harder at being tired less.
What stops me every time I read further into that same chapter is the order of the promise. "But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint" (Isaiah 40:31, NKJV). Waiting comes first. I have always wanted the running and the eagle's wings without the waiting, as if I could skip straight to renewed strength while still refusing to actually stop and be still long enough to receive it. David knew this rest from somewhere even quieter than waiting. He did not describe the Lord as someone who simply gave him strength from a distance. He described a Shepherd who made him lie down. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul" (Psalm 23:1-3, NKJV). Makes me. I do not choose the green pasture for myself most days. Left alone, I choose one more task instead.
This is exactly where abiding in the Spirit does what my own scheduling never could. Jesus did not tell the exhausted crowd around Him to try harder at managing their burdens more efficiently. He told them to come to a Person. "Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light" (Matthew 11:28-30, NKJV). I keep trying to carry my friend's relapse and my own workload and twelve years of recovery vigilance all under one yoke built entirely out of my own strength, and Jesus is simply offering to carry it with me under His instead, which was never going to feel heavier, only lighter, because He was never straining under it in the first place.
God told Moses something in the middle of a genuinely exhausting season of leading a people who complained constantly and tested his patience daily. "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest" (Exodus 33:14, NKJV). Not a technique. A Presence. And Paul, writing from inside a weakness he had begged God three times to remove, received an answer that still undoes me every time I reread it. "My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9, NKJV). My weakness was never the obstacle to God's strength showing up. It is the exact place His strength shows up best, which means this tiredness sitting on my chest is not a failure I need to hide from Him. It is an invitation I keep trying to decline by hitting snooze one more time.
I finally put my phone down last night before I meant to, no new episode, no last email, just lights off and a short, honest prayer that I was tired and did not know how to stop being tired on my own. I slept better than I have in weeks, not because the workload shrank or the phone call about my friend got any easier to carry, but because I finally let myself be the weak one in that sentence from Isaiah instead of the one pretending to have enough might on my own.
If you are lying there this morning doing the same math I was, counting hours and coming up short no matter how you add it, know this. God is alive, and He already sees exactly how much weight you have been carrying alone. He has a plan for you that does not require you to earn your rest first, and He has a Presence that goes with you into the exhaustion itself, not just after you have finally fixed it. He will never leave you to run on fumes by yourself, not this morning and not tonight.
Scriptures used (NKJV): Isaiah 40:29; Isaiah 40:31; Psalm 23:1-3; Matthew 11:28-30; Exodus 33:14; 2 Corinthians 12:9.
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