I’ve wanted to give up on important things in life and leadership more times than I can count. And by the way, it’s not wrong to want to give up. It’s normal.
For clarity, when I talk about giving up in this post, I’m not simply referring to stepping down from a position or role. Giving up can take many forms in life and leadership. I’m talking about the temptation to walk away from something that matters deeply to you and that you know you are called to, or at least once believed you were called to.
That might look like giving up on a relationship.
Giving up on a significant goal.
Giving up on a vision, a season, or an assignment you once felt God invited you into.
Giving up isn’t always about leaving a title. Often, it’s about slowly disengaging from something sacred, something meaningful, something that still carries weight in your life.
That’s the kind of giving up I’m talking about here.
There comes a point when giving up doesn’t feel dramatic; it feels reasonable. Not because you’re lazy. Not because you lack faith. But because you’re tired. There are times I have been exhausted from trying, weary from carrying responsibility and spent from pushing forward while life itself felt so heavy. And midlife itself has a way of bringing us to that edge. When you are middle age, you have lived long enough to know that perseverance isn’t glamorous. It’s costly. It asks more of you than you sometimes feel you have to give.
If you’re standing in that place right now, persevering through a hard thing and wondering if it’s time to quit, walk away, or disengage, you’re not weak for feeling this way. You’re human. But before you give up, there are a few important things worth considering.
Wanting to quit is a sign of success
I’ll never forget hearing Pastor Matthew Barnett say: “Wanting to quit is a sign of success because it means you have something to quit; but don’t quit.” The first time I heard that, I remember thinking, Oh my gosh. This is so simple, and yet so profound. Wanting to quit is actually a sign of success. It means you’re not empty. It means you’re engaged. It means you’ve built something, carried something, and stewarded something.
When I really sat with that thought, I realized something else. If I want to quit, it’s because I actually have a lot going for me. I have responsibility. I have calling. I have momentum. I have something at stake.On the surface, that idea sounds almost too simple. Maybe even a little silly. But the more you think about it, the more powerful it becomes. If you have things you’re tempted to quit, it means you’re not standing still. You’re actually doing something with your life. People who have little going on may not struggle so much with the temptation to quit.
Giving up rarely brings the relief we imagine
When exhaustion sets in, giving up can feel like rest. You might have fantasies of peace descending like a river the moment you quit, like you’ll finally be able to exhale. But most of the time, that isn’t what happens.
There are moments when I feel compelled to act suddenly because frustration has been building for a while. In those moments, action can feel urgent, even necessary. But urgency does not always equal wisdom. I’ve learned this the hard way. I’ve sometimes criticized my husband for waiting too long, in my opinion, to act on something, particularly in his leadership role(s). I owe him an apology for that more times than I can count. In hindsight, I realize that many of those times I was wrong. At the same time, Larry has often been the one to caution me about acting too quickly simply because I was uncomfortable. I am a take-action kind of person. I like movement and resolution. Sometimes I move too fast just to relieve the tension I’m feeling. Later, that haste can leave me with regret because I should have thought things out more before I moved on whatever it was that I did.
Giving up often replaces one kind of pain with another. It trades the discomfort of endurance for the quiet ache of regret, the loss of identity, or the feeling of abandoning something that still matters deeply. It doesn’t heal the wound. It simply shifts it.
More than once I’ve had a friend resign something and then quickly have “buyers remorse” about it, wishing they could turn back time. Not always, but way too many times.
Rest restores.
Quitting erodes.
And the two are not the same.
Midlife teaches us what’s worth enduring
Even though I still have a lot to learn, as all of us do, I’m sometimes surprised by the depth of revelation that still comes at this stage of life. I’ll find myself thinking, How did I not see this sooner? Just this week, my therapist shared something that stopped me in my tracks. I was sharing with her about how I hate uncertainty and am just tempted to step out and do something to end the uncertainty. She said, “Deanna, anxiety doesn’t decrease by reducing uncertainty. It decreases when we increase our capacity for uncertainty.” She gently cautioned me about making decisions from a dysregulated place. When something feels uncomfortable, my instinct as a take-charge leader is to act quickly, to fix, to resolve, to move. But I’m learning that not every situation requires immediate action. And in fact, immediate action can sometimes be the worst thing. Some moments are invitations to increase our tolerance for discomfort, to stay present in the waiting, and to allow clarity to emerge rather than forcing it.
Midlife, if we’re doing it well, is a season of growing maturity. Earlier seasons of life often fuel perseverance through ambition or the need to prove ourselves. Midlife strips that away. At this stage, many of us aren’t trying to impress anyone, at least as much as we once were. We’re just trying to fully “become” and live with integrity.
I have lived enough life to know that not every season is meant for growth or visibility. Some seasons are about endurance. About staying rooted when the ground feels unsteady. About holding steady, not because it’s easy, but because it’s faithful. Midlife perseverance is quieter, more intentional and grounded. It’s choosing to remain aligned with who you are becoming, even when the process is uncomfortable.
Many weeks my prayer is, “Lord, help me to become more comfortable with being uncomfortable.”
Leadership doesn’t always look strong from the outside
One of the biggest myths about leadership is that it always looks confident, clear, and victorious. It doesn’t. I do not always walk into my office or on stage feeling like Wonder Woman. Sometimes leadership looks like continuing to show up while carrying grief, disappointment, unresolved questions, or personal strain. Sometimes it looks like making decisions that won’t be applauded. Sometimes it looks like holding steady when outcomes are uncertain and emotions are loud.
I’ve come to understand that you don’t have to be “untouched” to be effective, you don’t have to feel powerful to lead well and you don’t have to have everything resolved to do the next right thing. Leadership is less about momentum and more about integrity over time.
Faith reframes the temptation to quit
Faith doesn’t eliminate the urge to give up…it reframes it.
Faith reminds us that endurance isn’t stubbornness…it’s trust. It’s trusting that God is still at work when progress feels slow. It’s trusting that obedience matters even when results are unclear.
Friend, I encourage you to trust that a difficult chapter isn’t the end of the story. Some of the deepest work God does in us happens in seasons we would never choose. Faith doesn’t promise the road will be easy. It promises the journey won’t be wasted. And that changes how we carry it.
If you’re tired, ask the right question
Before you give up, pause and ask yourself:
Am I done? Or am I just exhausted?
Do I need to quit? Or do I need rest?
Am I losing faith? Or am I carrying too much alone?
Those distinctions matter.
Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is not push harder, but stay present. There are weeks that the most important things I do are pray honestly, tend to my soul and take care of myself without surrendering my calling.
Why giving up isn’t the answer
Giving up often costs more than it gives. It costs the growth that only perseverance produces, the wisdom forged in difficulty, and the version of you that is still being formed. That doesn’t mean you never pause or ignore your limits. It means you learn how to rest without abandoning what matters.
If you’re tired today, remember this. You don’t have to be unbroken to keep going. You don’t have to be loud to be strong. And you don’t need to see the entire path in order to take the next faithful step.
A friend of mine, Pastor Stephanie Smith, once shared an illustration that has stayed with me. She talked about traveling from one city to another and reminded us that you don’t need to see the entire road to reach your destination. You only need to see what’s in front of you right now. That thought has brought me comfort more times than I can count. To move forward, I don’t need full visibility. I just need enough light for today.
Sometimes perseverance isn’t dramatic.
It’s quiet faithfulness while you stay on the path.
And sometimes, choosing not to give up, especially when you’re tired, is the strongest leadership decision you will ever make.
What’s one next step you can take today without needing to see the whole road ahead?
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