There’s a reason Jesus withdrew before He poured out. There’s a reason He went up to the mountain to pray before He ever chose the twelve. There’s a reason He slipped away early in the morning or late at night to be alone with the Father. It wasn’t avoidance. It wasn’t laziness. It was an alignment. Jesus was getting His cup filled; because He knew that ministry was never meant to come from emptiness. It only works from overflow. Jesus led from a place of identity, not insecurity. He poured out from fullness, not need. He was a spring, not a sponge. That’s the kind of leadership we’re called to walk in; not because we’re Jesus, but because we follow His pattern. And His pattern shows us that you must be full before you flow.

Now the opposite of that is what most of us have seen. It’s the leader who keeps giving, even though they’re running on fumes. It’s the dad who keeps trying to show up for everyone, but is disconnected from his own heart. It’s the pastor who preaches fire but secretly feels dry and empty. And at some point, that way of living catches up. It shows up in burnout, in breakdowns, in broken relationships. Because you cannot help the poor if you are poor yourself. You can’t lead someone into joy if you don’t have it. You can’t guide someone toward healing if you’re still bleeding in silence. All you’ll be able to offer is advice. And advice without healing is just noise.

When Jesus filled His cup, He wasn’t just doing a religious routine. He was receiving love. He was being reminded of who He was. He was connecting to the Father in a way that grounded His emotions, gave Him clarity, and restored His strength. That’s why when He walked back into the crowd, He didn’t come in drained; He came in with peace. He wasn’t reactive, performative, or controlling. He was rooted. And when He gave, it wasn’t out of obligation. It was out of overflow.

And here’s what’s beautiful about how Jesus led; He felt. He wasn’t afraid to be human. He wasn’t ashamed of emotions. If He was angry, He showed it. If He was sad, He showed it. If He was in grief or mourning, He didn’t hide it. He wept. He groaned. He revealed His heart. There was no pretending in Him. And yet, He never led from pride. Every correction, every confrontation, every word of truth; it came from deep compassion. Even His hardest words to the Pharisees came from sorrow, not superiority. He longed for them to turn. He wasn’t trying to crush them; He was trying to wake them up. That’s the kind of emotional integrity most of us have never seen in leadership. And it’s what we need to model.

Jesus led not from position, but from presence. His authority didn’t come from a title. It came from alignment with the Father. He didn’t need to prove anything. He didn’t use His power to control. He served. He washed feet. He slowed down to look people in the eye. His leadership flowed from a heart that was full and connected. And this is the only place that’s safe to lead from. If your heart is empty, everything becomes about effort. About maintaining appearances. About managing people. But when your heart is full, leadership becomes about offering what you’ve received.

Now let’s go back to Elijah, because his story shows us exactly what it looks like to try and lead from exhaustion. Elijah had just experienced one of the most incredible moves of God; calling down fire from heaven in front of the prophets of Baal. The victory was massive. The moment was unforgettable. But the emotional crash after that kind of spiritual high was real. Elijah ran into the wilderness. Not to celebrate, but to hide. He was overwhelmed. Burned out. He felt completely alone. And when he said, “I’m the only one left,” what he really meant was, “I feel abandoned, exhausted, and afraid.” That’s the voice of a man who’s empty. And if you’ve ever led while feeling that way, you know how dangerous it is.