COVID Fatigue: The Sprint is Now a Marathon

By Brenda Jank

As we begin to approach 2022, the impact of our global pandemic is far from over.

We are all too familiar with:

Shutdown. Fear. Illness. Isolation. Unemployment. Work-from-home. School-free-fall. Newsfeeds. Death. Supply Chain Melt Down. Overtime. Overload. Long COVID. Loss upon loss. Unknown upon unknown. Anger. Anxiety. Depression. Unrest. Deep fatigue.

What words would you use to describe your COVID experience?

Have you thought about it? (Making a list might be good for your soul. Giving our pain a name is an important first step.)

What started as a sprint, moved into a marathon, and is now an Iron Man.

Universal to all, is our fatigue. It is unrelenting, alarming, and comes in many forms.

Compassion Fatigue. Decision Fatigue. Expectation Fatigue. Economic Insecurity. Mental Health Crisis.

General Patton and Vince Lombardi said it well.

Fatigue makes cowards of us all.

When fatigue makes cowards of us all, it multiplies our troubles.

In this state, we fail to

  • Give voice to our deepest pain
  • Inventory the condition of our souls
  • Admit, that “it’s time to take a break”

We need to learn from the best.

Jesus, tired as he was from his journey, sat down by the well. (John 4:6)

God used Jesus’ human limits, his fatigue, his decision to “take a break” for a Kingdom work that introduced an entire Samaritan community to Jesus – leading many to be saved. (John 4:1-42)

Taking a break is not selfish. It is God honoring and strategic – setting us up for a Kingdom work beyond what we can imagine.

So, what does this mean? 

What does this mean for your fatigue? Your calendar? Your bucket-filling strategies and priorities?

Tell us. 

Share your story of COURAGE to do what must be done.


Onward. Your best rest and your best work awaits!


First time here?

1 thought on “COVID Fatigue: The Sprint is Now a Marathon”

  1. I can’t aspire to courage. I can’t admit to things I’ve done. But here is a bit of my journey.

    In 2019 I was in a car wreck, hospitalized, and sent to rehab. These weren’t easy places, but I recognized Jesus in each place I inhabited. No longer could I drive. Then sciatica hit and the pain only got worse. Finally, this year I was shown my arthritis was bone on bone in my right hip and surgery was required. The inability to drive is beyond frustrating. The needs from having the surgery seem limitless. And there is no help.

    But I serve a Great and Faithful God Who supplies my needs. I am getting stronger. My mind is not up to par and my emotions prevent me from doing much that I need to do. My heart cries out and there are no words for the groans. Feeling of rejection and abandonment are constant. But God…. Now I’m not anyone special and my actions are the same as everyone else, but with the pain, I remember that I’m healed by the stripes of Jesus. Now? Maybe not until Heaven, but I’m still healed. I cry out and I feel the Presence of Jesus with me. I feel like a failure or like a bother to people, but God reminds me that I am His. I have been chosen. I am wanted. I am loved. I don’t deserve His love, but He gives it freely. With all the can’t’s in my life, there is Jesus. Do I have courage? No, but I do have Jesus.


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