Preaching has a sacred weight. Those of us who proclaim the gospel stand in the long line of prophets, poets, and truth-tellers who have dared to speak life into the world. We pour out our hearts, calling for justice, offering hope, and making meaning in a world that often feels unmoored.

We stand in the pulpit filled with the Spirit, but when we step down, many of us descend into silence—into loneliness and exhaustion so deep it feels like falling into the abyss.

This is the reality of post-preaching depression, a phenomenon rarely discussed but widely felt. After delivering a sermon, many preachers experience a sudden drop in energy, a wave of doubt, and even despair. 

The rush of the moment fades, and in its place, questions arise: Did they hear me? Did it matter? Was I enough?

Traditional theology often frames this experience as a test of faith or an attack from the enemy. But process theology, with its understanding of God as dynamic and relational, offers another possibility. 

It reminds us that God is not a distant observer but the One who moves with us in real-time, feeling and evolving with us. The Divine is not only present in the fire of proclamation but also in the quiet of the after.

Process theology teaches that God is in constant relationship with creation, luring us toward wholeness in each moment. If this is true, then our exhaustion is not a sign of spiritual failure but an invitation to divine rest. If God is indeed a God who responds to our reality, then even in our emptiness, God is offering something new—a gentle whisper after the storm, a peace beyond the pulpit.

The gospel is not just what we preach to others, but also what God preaches to us. The same grace we extend to our congregations is the grace we must extend to ourselves. 

When Jesus fed the five thousand, he did not keep going endlessly. He withdrew. He rested. He replenished.

If even Christ needed time away, why do we, as preachers, believe we must be endlessly poured out?

To those who stand at the edge of despair after the work of preaching: know this—God is still with you. The same Spirit that lifted your voice in the pulpit now cradles you in the silence. The call of God is not only to speak but also to rest, to heal, to be renewed.

Preaching is not just about proclamation, but about participation in the ongoing work of divine creativity. And that means we are not alone. Even in our lowest moments, God is there—feeling with us, weeping with us, calling us toward life once more.

So take a breath, preacher. The work is done for today. And the God who called you still holds you, even now.