When Weariness Sets In, But You Still Choose to Trust

When Weariness Sets In, But You Still Choose to Trust

By Sherita Jones | The Anointing Grace

There’s a reason God said what He said in Galatians 6:9:

“And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”

That “if” is heavy.

Because I’ve been close to fainting more times than I care to admit.

If you’re reading this, maybe you know the kind of weariness I’m talking about. The kind that doesn’t just sit in your body but seeps into your soul. The kind that makes you question whether being the bigger person even matters. The kind that makes you wonder, “Why do I always have to be the one who turns the other cheek, who forgives, who takes the high road, while the ones who mistreated me and my children seem to go unnoticed?”

All my life, I’ve fought familiar cycles.

Cycles of injustice, of being misunderstood, of being misused. Cycles that don’t seem to care how many times I fast, how often I pray, how deeply I examine myself to see if I’ve somehow brought this on. I’ve cried. I’ve repented. I’ve checked my heart under a microscope, over and over. And still, here I am, still fighting to stay afloat while the ones who wounded me, carry on like I’m the problem.

It’s not just the spiritual warfare, it’s the emotional toll. The narcissistic spirits that injure and manipulate, leaving behind wounds no one sees. The pain that doesn’t just touch me, but my children. The daily grind of showing up in a world that keeps trying to shut me down.

And yet, through all of this, I hear God whisper:

“Love them even more. Bless and curse not. Trust Me. I See.”

And honestly? Sometimes “Trust Me” sounds like a warning more than a comfort. Because every time I hear it, it’s like my spirit braces itself, like I already know something hard is coming. It’s like Spiritual PTSD. The last few times I “trusted,” it hurt. Deeply.

And that’s the truth no one talks about: Sometimes trusting God hurts.

Sometimes doing the right thing hurts.

Sometimes obeying Him will break your heart before it heals it.

But here’s what I’m learning, pain doesn’t mean God has abandoned me. It means He’s still pruning. Still preparing. Still protecting something I can’t see.

The weariness is real. But so is the promise.

I’ve had to ask myself, if I say I trust Him, why does weariness have more of my attention than His Word?

Why do I doubt the One who never fails?

Why am I choosing to believe in my trauma more than my testimony?

Let’s be honest:

The sun has never failed to rise.

The sky hasn’t collapsed.

The earth still yield its fruit. 

All of these daily miracles happen without our help, and yet, we still worry God won’t come through?

It’s time to repent. Not because we’re wicked. But because we’ve forgotten.

We’ve let weariness rob us of wonder.

We’ve allowed pain to silence praise.

We’ve accepted the enemy’s lies as reality and God’s truth as optional.

But not anymore.

I’m choosing to remember again.

To press in again.

To believe again.

Not because it feels good, but because He is good.

And I want you to do the same.

Don’t let the weariness win.

Don’t let the enemy keep your heart hostage.

Don’t forfeit your due season because your now season feels unbearable.

Closeness to God requires intentional pursuit.

You can’t feel the warmth of His shadow if you’re not standing near Him.

So let’s get close.

Let’s tear down every lie.

Let’s renew our minds.

Let’s not be weary in well doing, because the harvest is coming.

And if we faint not, we will reap.