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Some of us carry a silent belief that love means sacrifice without limit. That if someone we care about is hurting, doubting, or spiraling, the godliest thing we can do is throw ourselves into their fire—again and again—until they’re okay. But eventually, we find ourselves burned out, spiritually numb, and wondering why helping others feels like it’s slowly destroying us. If you’ve ever walked away from a conversation feeling more exhausted than encouraged, or wondered why your compassion feels like a liability, you’re not alone. And you’re not broken. You might just be carrying a burden you were never meant to.

The book of Jude contains a striking warning wrapped in a call to mercy. “Be merciful to those who doubt,” it says—but also “snatch others from the fire” and “show mercy, mixed with fear.” It’s not exactly the verse you see on a coffee mug. But it’s a lifeline for every over-functioning Christian who’s lost sight of their own limits. This passage reminds us that loving others well doesn’t mean losing ourselves in their crisis. Mercy without boundaries isn’t biblical—it’s burnout in a spiritual disguise.

Jesus modeled compassion better than anyone. He healed the broken, touched the untouchable, and welcomed the outsider. But He also walked away from unreceptive crowds. He withdrew to lonely places to pray. He didn’t meet every need or chase down every wounded soul—and if Jesus didn’t, why do we think we should? Boundaries aren’t a sign of spiritual immaturity—they’re a mark of wisdom. They’re how we protect the relationships that matter most: our marriage, our children, our own soul.

Maybe you’re in a season where you’re the one constantly pouring out. You’re the one everyone calls. The one holding fragile people together while quietly unraveling. Hear this: you’re not the Savior. You’re not required to be everyone’s emergency contact. It is okay to pause. To rest. To let someone else’s crisis be theirs to carry—for a moment, or for good. Setting healthy limits doesn’t make you less loving. It makes your love sustainable.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re the one in the fire. Maybe all your energy has gone to holding it together, helping others, or hiding your own mess. If that’s you, the same mercy you’ve offered to others is available to you. You don’t have to crash to call for help. You don’t have to burn out before you admit you’re tired. God’s grace is not just for the broken—it’s for the helper too. So stop setting yourself on fire. Stand firm. And let the God who rescues do what only He can.