Faith When You’re Exhausted: Praying in the Chaos

Some days, exhaustion isn’t just a feeling—it’s a deep ache that seeps into your bones, your soul, and your prayers. It’s the kind of tiredness that makes you question how you’ll make it through the next hour, let alone the next day. As a mama, a wife, and a woman striving to follow God, there are seasons where my faith feels stretched thinner than I ever thought possible.

There are moments when I walk blind—literally fumbling in darkness—yet I’m called to believe. To trust the hand I can’t see, the plan I can’t trace. Jesus spoke of trusting the unseen when He said, “Look at the birds of the air… they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?... And do not worry about your life… or about your body… Consider the lilies… they do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these” (Matthew 6:26–30). That verse isn’t just comforting—it’s radical. It shifts my perspective when my anxiety tries to get the best of me. It’s a divine reminder to trust God in the middle of our messes, when tomorrow feels like a mountain we have to climb.

I’m learning this trust in big ways and small. When I left work to stay home, that was a very defining moment in my spiritual life. It felt scary. But every. single. time, God has showed up. The tiniest blessing would arrive, through my husband’s wisdom, courage, or favor. It was almost like my quiet, whispered prayers were answered in perfect timing. Each blessing reminded me: God is working, even when we can’t see how. When I feel fear rise, I hold onto “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind” (2 Timothy 1:7). That sanity, that love, that unshakable strength? It comes when our faith chooses to lean without knowing how things will unfold. Trust ignites our soul when logic fails. And trust me, when it comes to trusting God, logic doesn't stand a chance.

There are days I literally have to ask, “God, what’s next?” And then I pause—because exactly what’s next has never slipped me yet. He didn’t just bless us once; He sustains us, over and over and over again. In that realization, I recognize that His promise isn’t conditional on my strength—it’s based on His character. He is a faithful God, a miracle working God. In our life, there are seasons where we may not get everything we want, but we always have everything we need. Walking through seasons of lack is not punishment—it’s preparation. He humbles us—not to break us—but to remind us that we are dependent. And dependence isn’t weakness—it's where holy intimacy begins. Where we can’t provide, He steps in. When our bodies fail, He strengthens. When fear knocks, He releases peace that quiets storms inside us. It's all in His plan.

There’s something sacred about praying in the chaos. It’s raw, it’s real, and it changes us from the inside out. Our prayers might tremble, but they carry faith. Some days our prayer may just be tears running down our face and sitting in silence. Those prayers are honest, teetering between doubt and devotion, but each whisper is met by a God who is supernatural. A God who does the impossible while we’re holding that baby, wiping that toddler’s tears, and worshipping in leftover nap-time minutes.

If you are here—neck-deep in diapers, bills, appointments, and what-ifs—I see you. You are not walking alone. Your prayers matter, even when they’re just Please help me or I can’t do this. God hears them all. He meets you in the middle of your exhaustion. He uses your husband, your phone prayer chain, that spontaneous blessing at checkout, and the steadiest beat of your child’s heartbeat to remind you: He is enough.

This wild life of motherhood and marriage isn’t easy. But it’s holy. I feel like I keep repeating that in these blogs but it's because I truly believe it. The work is holy. And while the chaos may cloud your vision, faith fights its way through. Because when we pray, when we trust, when we keep walking—God’s promise is steadily fulfilled. For each day, each moment, each breath. So hang in there girlie because we serve a God who has yet to lose a battle; a God who has yet to fail us.

xx

Santa Naisha