(Transcribed by TurboScribe. Go Unlimited to remove this message.)
(0:00 - 3:21)
Hey friends, welcome back to Goals & Grace. It's the week after Easter, the dishwasher is still humming, the lilies are leaning, and the inner critic already has her clipboard out. She's tapping her pen like, are we saving the world today or just reheating scalloped potatoes? Bless her heart.
If you're feeling that tug today, you are not broken. You're human, and you matter even when you pause. Today, we're diving deep into a tension you and I meet daily, the pull between tending your own soul and showing up for the whole community, or at least for those in your inner circle.
So the next time you're standing at the refrigerator, door open, cold air on your knees, staring at the hummus like it knows the will of God, remember this, you can choose renewal and still choose people. It isn't either or, it's faithful both. If you struggle to find the balance between taking care of yourself and being available to the people you love and the people you want to serve, then I am glad you're here because today, we're going to talk even deeper about that.
Welcome to Goals in Grace, where ambitious women align bold dreams with unshakable faith. I'm Rev. Dr. Juliet Spencer, certified high-performance coach and your guide to clarity amid chaos. Each episode delivers one practical framework, plus faith truth to cut overwhelm, claim calling, and crush imposter syndrome.
Ready to lead with love, not depletion? Let's go. We named this in episode 29 and ran it through our four-part filter, Identity, Impact, Integrity, Initiative. Today, we'll slow down inside that first dilemma, self versus others, and let it breathe because the emotional toil here is real.
When you say yes to your people while your tank is empty, resentment builds. When you say yes to yourself without any outward expression of love, isolation builds. Neither is the way of Jesus.
That's the tightrope we're naming today. I run everything through Identity, Impact, Integrity, and Initiative. When you're asked to do something outside of the things that scream obvious, like making sure your child has a ride home from school, then before you say yes, ask yourself out loud, who am I called to be right now? If your inner voice isn't clear yet, then maybe you shouldn't give anyone an answer.
Pause until you can answer from conviction, not pressure. So, I have a quick confession. A couple of years ago, when our kids were all visiting and we were having a big family Easter, it was post-Easter Monday, and I tried to be the patron saint of productivity and generosity.
(3:22 - 4:13)
I said yes to a pastoral care visit, yes to two coaching sessions, yes to grocery pickup, and yes to a crockpot situation that required ingredients I did not possess, and yes to helping organize the garage, which let's be honest, Jesus himself would have shaken his head at. By 3 p.m., I was a holy mess with unholy eyebrows, or in my case, no eyebrows. My husband asked, what's for dinner? And I said, repentance.
I wasn't being a martyr. I was mismanaged. I had outsourced my schedule to guilt.
Let me say that again. I had outsourced my schedule to guilt. Maybe you can relate.
(4:14 - 4:42)
A client, a leader, mom, heart of gold, told me, if I close my laptop at 3 to get in the pickup line, I feel guilty. If I don't, I feel guilty. And that's the tightrope.
So we ran the filter. Identity. Who am I called to be right now? She said, a clear, calm leader and a present mom.
(4:43 - 5:00)
Then we discussed impact. How will I choose this ripple? She said, if I clarify priorities now, my team moves without me hovering. If I show up for my pickup, my son's nervous system settles.
(5:01 - 6:57)
Next up, integrity. And she knew the drill. So she asked, what keeps me honest when no one's watching? She said, we in our family value family and clear communication.
And then, what was her initiative? What's the next faithful step I can take over the next 15 minutes? She sent a concise priorities note to her team, closed the laptop, drove to school, and sat in the car breathing while she recited Psalm 23 in her mind. The next day, her team moved faster because expectations were totally clear. Her margin ended up serving her community better, and it brought joy to her son and to her mom's heart.
I've always loved Parker Palmer's line, self-care is never a selfish act. It is simply good stewardship of the only gift I have, the gift I was put on earth to offer to others. Don't you love that? I remind myself of it from time to time.
Your soul isn't a side hustle. It's the vessel of your calling. Now bring your imagination to the Gospels.
It's barely dawn. The village still smells like last night's fire. Word spreads like wildfire.
He's here, the healer, he's here. A father lifts his boy, eyes rimmed red with another sleepless night. A woman gathers her shawl tied around years of chronic pain and being overlooked.
They crest the hill and meet a murmuring crowd. Where is he? Someone points to the ridgeline. He went up to the mountains before sunrise.
(6:58 - 7:23)
The ache is palpable. But we need him, they say. And Jesus, carrying a mission not just for one village but for all creation, is alone in prayer.
He's not indifferent. He's intentional. He knows if he pours from a dry well, the living water won't reach anyone.
(7:24 - 8:38)
He returns with authority because he's retreated with humility. He walks back down the slope carrying clarity like sunrise in his chest. And because he honored God in secret, he can bless the crowds in public.
That rhythm, withdrawal and return, solitude and service isn't a loophole. It's the liturgy of sustainable love. I wish I'd written that last line, but I stole it.
It's the liturgy of sustainable love. Has a beautiful ring to it, doesn't it? Because it's true. If Jesus could step away to pray, to be with friends, to breathe, then you can step away.
Your pause is not a betrayal of your people. Ultimately, it's a blessing for them. Here's the honest part.
Choosing care can trigger fear. They'll think I don't care. I know I used to have that thought on the regular.
(8:39 - 8:48)
And choosing community or choosing others can trigger depletion. No one sees me. I'm exhausted.
(8:49 - 9:23)
Do I ever get my time? The inner critic loves this. She'll say, if you were truly faithful, you wouldn't need the rest. And in the next breath, if you were truly wise, you'd never answer another text.
But she's not after the truth. She's after your peace. When you feel that spike of panic or that gray fog of martyrdom, that's your dashboard light.
(9:23 - 10:02)
Don't smash the dashboard. Just pull over. So what do you do? Well, again, as I mentioned in Episode 29, first you identify who you are.
Before you say yes or no, ask, who am I in Christ right now, in this moment? Not who does the loudest voice say I am, but who am I? I'm beloved, called, finite. And by the way, that last word really matters. Finite.
(10:03 - 11:19)
Then examine your impact. If I choose this, how does love multiply? What is the impact that I'm making, and for whom? Sometimes love multiplies by you showing up at the church meal train. Sometimes it shows up and multiplies by you taking a nap, so you don't bite people's head off at 5 p.m. And then, what does your integrity tell you? For instance, it's worth asking, what would be honest to my values even if no one had expectations of me and no one applauded? What would be honest to my values? If you value presence, then scrolling while your child tells you about rectangles isn't integrity.
If you value stewardship, then saying yes while you're seething and overly exhausted is not integrity. Finally, initiative. What is the next faithful step I can take in the next 15 minutes? Not the next 15 years, the next 15 minutes.
(11:20 - 11:35)
Faithfulness fits in 15 minutes. Now, that may seem strange, but I promise if you try it, you'll realize how often it fits. Let's ground this with a quick reset you can do today.
(11:36 - 13:20)
Put both feet on the floor, inhale for four, exhale for six, and whisper, the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, and then name the tension out loud. So, for example, you might say, I want to serve everyone and I need to be well to do it. Or, one that I used to struggle with, I want to be a likable pastor who's there for her people and I want to have enough energy for my family when I get home.
And then, choose one next step that honors both. So, text the team one clear priority, put the phone in the pantry for the 20 minutes after you walk in the door, and play on the floor or spend time with your teenager asking how the day went. Step outside and put your face in the sun and then re-engage on purpose.
For me, it was recognizing that I didn't always have to make a call in person. Sometimes, a phone call was just as meaningful and a lot less time consuming, leaving me more energized to spend time with my people at home. You know what formed this conviction in me? When my girls were little, I decided early that presence wasn't optional.
We dug for worms in the backyard, mama, daddy, children, and yes, grandma and grandpa worms. I supervised with great enthusiasm and zero touching, which they never noticed. I don't regret a single muddy minute.
(13:21 - 13:40)
But, here's the confession I had to grow through. Because I knew how sacred presence was, it took me much longer to prioritize time away to tend my own soul. Hiring a babysitter so my and I could go on a date or saying yes to a short getaway with my circle of women.
(13:41 - 15:08)
I had to learn that stepping back didn't cancel my love for my family, it strengthened it. When I returned, I was kinder, clearer, and a whole lot more fun. For my helpers, caregivers, pastors, team leads, for the people who just want to do right by the in your world.
For those who feel the whole world's tug on your sleeve, hear this with love. Your exhaustion is not proof of holiness, and it's not proof of effectiveness. Jesus' pattern gives you permission.
So, step away to be with God. Then, step toward the people with power that isn't performative. Your no creates space for a better yes.
Your rest is a public service announcement that human beings are not machines. So, back to our gospel morning. The sun lifts, footsteps approach, the crowd returns, he's back.
And what pours out? Compassion, teaching, healing, not frantic fixes, not people pleasing, not a resentment-laced sermon. Power that blesses because the source was honored. And that's the fruit we want.
(15:09 - 15:44)
But Jesus didn't just spend time alone. He also spent time with relationships that were important to him so that he could rejuvenate his soul. If you're the kind of parent, if you're the kind of spouse, if you're the kind of Christian who believes that finding enough me-time is selfish, if finding time with friends away from responsibility is somehow less than honorable, then I hope you hear me say, if Jesus could do it, then so can you.
(15:45 - 16:27)
So try this for one week. Before you answer a request, pause for a breath and say, I am beloved. I am finite.
I am sent. And then decide. When you do say yes, show up with your whole self, your full presence.
And when you say no, add a blessing. I can't take that on today, but here's one resource or a step that might move this forward. A boundary plus contribution is how self and community, self and the people you love can walk hand in hand.
(16:28 - 16:49)
So the next time you're standing at the refrigerator contemplating one of life's dilemmas, let your inner critic keep her clipboard, but you keep the pen. Name the tension, run the filter, and then take one faithful step. Breathe, choose, act.
(16:50 - 17:26)
If you need a little bit more one-on-one attention and you have been putting off coaching because it seems too selfish, then I hope you'll consider this an invitation to revisit that question because coaching can be one of the best gifts you give yourself. Oh, and next week, we'll take a deeper dive into another one of life's dilemmas that I mentioned in episode 29, the dilemma between justice and mercy. Thanks again, my friend, and may God bless you with goals and grace.
(Transcribed by TurboScribe. Go Unlimited to remove this message.)
