Exploring Emotional Boundaries and What Biblical Community Requires of Us
A friend told me once that I expect my tenacity out of everyone.
We were discussing a friend’s current need and the best way to show up for them. I didn’t agree with their approach, and they didn’t necessarily agree with mine. But one thing was definitely clear: my expectation was that we, as our friend’s community, should respond urgently.
So when my friend said this to me, I paused. And then I said, “Yes, actually, I do.”
My expectation of community is that we carry things together. Equally. As if they are our own.
After that conversation, though, I started to question myself. Maybe I am doing too much. Maybe I put more effort into other people’s problems because there are things in my own life I don’t want to face. Maybe I should do less.
It got me pondering one question: Should we cater to our capacity?
“I Gotta Put Me First!”
Since that conversation, I’ve noticeably done less as a personal experiment. For the majority of this year, I’ve adopted a different approach: considering my capacity before anything else.
It’s been an interesting experience.
Surprisingly, it was easy for me to convert to this mentality. The more I internally told myself no to the needs of others, the better it felt. I felt like I had more control. My obligation to show up well for people started dwindling, and that feeling of “I can do more” became easier to stifle.
I started hesitating in moments when I knew God was pressing me to give more of my time, effort, or money. I started pushing back.
They’ll figure it out.
If I don’t do it, someone else will.
But the thing is, I used to be that someone else.
The person who stepped in. The person who figured out what could be done and did it. And the more I practiced considering my capacity first, the easier it became to convince myself that someone else’s need wasn’t necessarily mine to respond to.
That’s when I started to question whether what felt like a healthy boundary was actually changing the way I loved people.
What caused me to reevaluate my little experiment was a TikTok. (The Lord met me while doom scrolling.)
I came across a 15 second clip of Viola Davis saying, “It is your job in life to disappoint as many people as you can so that you do not disappoint yourself.”
I wasn’t able to find the full interview, but the clip has circulated online for the past few years, and the interpretation of it seems pretty unanimous: prioritize you. It’s better to disappoint other people than to disappoint yourself.
In today’s society, that makes sense. But it didn’t sit right with me. It made me reevaluate my own approach to trying to create balance. Had I actually found balance, or had I just swung from one extreme to the other?
Something about making it my goal to prioritize myself, even at the expense of disappointing others, felt contradictory to what the Bible teaches about how we are called to show up for one another.
And the more I paid attention, the more I noticed how easily this ideology of caring for and considering ourselves first can seep into Christian community.
I think sometimes we feel like it’s up to us to decide when these responses are valid. When someone is stuck in a toxic cycle, we say, “That ain’t got nothing to do with me.” If holding someone accountable feels like it will come with too much pushback or put a strain on the relationship, we think, “Imma stay out of it.”
And when someone’s situation feels too heavy for us to take on in the season we’re in, it becomes, “I’ve got too much going on.”
And individually, these responses can feel reasonable. Sometimes they are. But what happens to community when considering our own capacity becomes our first response to someone else’s need?
Because the reality is, checking in isn’t always enough. Showing up for birthdays and baby showers isn’t always enough. “I’ll be praying for you” isn’t always enough.
Transparently speaking, this past year I’ve limited myself to these types of gestures and reasoned that I’ve done enough “above and beyond” in my lifetime. I deserve to step back.
But if we’re talking about biblical community, what does Scripture actually require of us?
What Does Scripture Require of Us?
Galatians 6:2 tells us to “carry each other’s burdens,” but that command is often separated from the verse directly before it. Paul is specifically addressing how believers should respond when someone is caught in sin, but it is not limited to this scenario.
Tony Evans says, “Burdens don’t necessarily imply sin. The burdens of life can include all sorts of weighty problems: physical, relational, financial, and emotional.”
The Greek definition of carry, or to bear, means to sustain, support, and help someone under something heavy.
The purpose of bearing one another’s burdens isn’t to prove that we’re good friends or even good people. Paul says that by doing so, we fulfill the law of Christ. In John 13:34–35, Jesus gives His disciples a clear command: to love one another as He has loved them.
That standard complicates the way we talk about capacity.
When someone comes to us carrying something heavy, should our first consideration always be how we feel or what we currently have the emotional bandwidth to give? Or should discernment play a greater role?
Before deciding we don’t have the capacity to show up, there may be another question worth asking: Have we consulted God about how He wants us to show up?
Philippians 2:3–4 adds another layer. Believers are instructed to value others above themselves and to look not only to their own interests, but also to the interests of others.
This doesn’t suggest that our own needs are irrelevant. But it does challenge a way of relating to one another in which our comfort, emotions, or convenience automatically become the deciding factor.
The love Christ modeled was sacrificial. If He is our standard, there will likely be moments when loving someone well requires something we would rather not give.
But Jesus also modeled balance. There were times He withdrew from people to pray, fast, and spend time alone with God. There were also moments when He chose not to perform the miracle asked of Him. His willingness to give of Himself didn’t mean He was endlessly available to everyone.
Rest and boundaries matter. The question is whether we’re using them to sustain the way we love people or as a reason not to love them sacrificially at all.
Perhaps the emotional boundary shouldn't be whether we show up, but an indicator that making space to care for ourselves afterwards is necessary so that we don’t resent our sacrifice.
What Side of the Conversation Are You On?
This is the part I’m still wrestling with.
I know that I have a high capacity. Over the years, friends have told me that the way I approach friendship has challenged them to show up differently for the people they love. For a while, being told that I was doing “too much” made me question whether that part of me needed to change.
I don’t think it does.
But I also don’t think having a lower capacity automatically means someone loves less. The better question may be: What has shaped our capacity in the first place?
Maybe you’ve been used or taken advantage of. Maybe you’re burnt out. Maybe you’ve spent years showing up for people who never showed up for you. Maybe disappointment taught you not to expect much from community, and eventually, not to give much either.
Those things matter.
But I’m beginning to question how much authority we should give them.
Maybe the work isn’t forcing ourselves to become people with limitless capacity. Maybe it’s becoming honest about what determines our limits.
When we say, “I don’t have the capacity,” are we discerning what God is asking of us, or responding to exhaustion, fear, disappointment, inconvenience, or the anticipation that showing up once will require us to keep showing up?
I don’t think the answer is to abandon boundaries. I think it’s to examine them.
Because if Christ is our standard for love, then perhaps our capacity shouldn’t always have the final say.
