I used to think stress was the enemy.
Like many pastors, I assumed that when my chest tightened and my to-do list felt like it had teeth, I was somehow doing it wrong—living outside God’s best, missing some secret formula for “peace that surpasses understanding.” Stress, I believed, was a neon sign flashing Failure! over my life.
But recently, I learned something that turned that assumption upside down.
I stumbled across the difference between distress and eustress—two words that describe two very different stories that stress can tell. It was Hans Selye, a scientist in the 1970s, who first named them. Distress is the story most of us know: the grinding, overwhelming kind of stress that erodes hope and health. But eustress (from the Greek word for “good”) is a different tale altogether—it’s the energizing, growth-stretching kind of stress that actually strengthens you.
It hit me hard:
Stress isn’t always the enemy. Misinterpreted stress is.
A Different Kind of Fight
As I dug deeper, I learned that the key difference between distress and eustress isn’t the size of the problem. It’s the way our hearts appraise it.
When a challenge feels bigger than our resources, it mutates into distress. But when a challenge feels just within reach, it sparks eustress—fueling learning, resilience, even joy. In God’s kindness, our bodies are wired to handle both—but they thrive when we name the story rightly.
And here’s where it got personal.
I thought about the new ministry initiatives we were launching—the way excitement had so quickly soured into sleepless nights, tangled in what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Distress had been gnawing at me, not because the task was inherently bad, but because somewhere along the way, I had lost the perspective that God equips those He calls. I had stopped seeing the opportunity and only saw the threat.
Choosing to Reframe
One small but profound practice I’ve started since is learning to reframe stressful situations intentionally—right there in the moment. When a heavy meeting or a tight sermon deadline looms, I now ask myself:
“Is this a threat—or a stretch?”
“Is God exposing my weakness to shame me—or inviting me to trust Him for more?”
It’s startling how often my gut response changes. What once felt like distress now feels more like holy eustress—a chance to lean harder on the Spirit and discover new muscles I didn’t know I had.
I also started building small recovery rhythms into my days: pausing for prayer after long meetings, taking five-minute walks between writing sprints, practicing actual Sabbath instead of “crash-and-binge” days off. Those tiny margins aren’t indulgences. They are what allow eustress to sharpen me without tipping into burnout.
A Takeaway for the Weary Leader
If you’re reading this, weighed down under the demands of ministry, let me remind you:
Stress is not a sign you’re failing. It may be the sign you’re growing.
The enemy would love to convince you that every heavy moment is a sentence of doom. But Scripture reminds us:
“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair…” (2 Corinthians 4:8)
In Christ, even our pressure points become places of renewal.
The challenge is not to eliminate stress (an impossible goal) but to rightly interpret it—to ask what kind of story it’s telling, and who’s holding the pen.
So the next time your heart races before you step into a hard conversation, or your mind spins with deadlines and sermons and counseling appointments, pause. Take a breath. Name the moment:
“This isn’t a threat. It’s an invitation.”
And walk forward with hope.
God is not just the God of peace in our stillness.
He is the God of strength in our striving.
And remarkably, He uses even the pressures of ministry—not to crush us—but to carve us more fully into the likeness of Christ.
May we be those who see God’s hand even in the weight, and who trust that in every pressure, He is making us more like His Son.