Before we jump in, I want to tell you something honestly.
This reflection was originally meant only for supporting members. It’s part of a deeper series we’ve been walking through together on emotional health, spiritual formation, and the inner life. But the more I sat with this piece, the more I felt like maybe someone out there needed to read it today, someone exhausted, overwhelmed, constantly distracting themselves just to make it through another week.
So I decided to make this one available to everyone.
This is the kind of work we do here, thoughtful, grounded reflections rooted in the life of Christ and the reality of being human. And while I never want this space to feel transactional or pressured, I do want to be honest that work like this only continues because readers choose to support it. So if the following reflection is meaningful to you and you’re in a position to contribute, becoming a supporting member is one of the ways you help keep this ministry alive and available for others who may need it too.
Issue 10: Life in the Resurrection
God, distraction, and the emotional life beneath the surface
The house is finally quiet, but your body does not seem to know what to do with the silence.
You sit down for the first time all day and feel the urge to get back up almost immediately. Your hand reaches for the phone before you even think about it. You open apps without interest. Walk into another room without purpose. Turn on noise you are not really listening to.
It can feel strangely difficult to remain in one place with nothing demanding your attention.
Certainly not because you are lazy.
and not because you lack discipline.
Something in you has learned that stillness is uncomfortable.
Most people notice this pattern long before they understand it.
There is a particular discomfort that can rise up in silence. Not dramatic panic, usually. More like restlessness. Irritation. A low pressure inside the chest. A feeling that you should probably be doing something else.
And underneath it all sits a difficult question:
Why is it so hard to simply remain present to yourself?
Over the last several weeks, we have been exploring the patterns that shape our lives, the thoughts we repeat, the habits we carry, the ways fear and exhaustion quietly direct us. But eventually the journey moves beneath thought and behavior and into something deeper, our emotional life.
Not the polished version we show to others.
The part underneath.
The grief we avoid.
The anger we dismiss.
The loneliness we outrun.
The anxiety we manage by staying constantly occupied.
Many of us have become experts at distraction without ever realizing it.
Some people stay busy from morning until night because slowing down allows sadness to catch up with them. Others fill every empty space with podcasts, scrolling, noise, errands, or work because silence feels strangely unbearable. Some cannot easily explain what they feel at all. They know something is wrong, but the inner world feels blurred and difficult to access.
This is more common than most people realize.
Human beings naturally move away from discomfort. The mind learns quickly. If something feels painful, overwhelming, confusing, or emotionally unsafe, the brain begins searching for ways to avoid it. Over time, those responses become automatic.
You do not consciously decide:
“I will avoid my feelings today.”
You simply reach for what helps you stay away from them.
And in a world built around endless stimulation, avoidance has become incredibly easy. We are rarely left alone with ourselves long enough to notice what is happening beneath the surface.
But this did not begin with technology.
Many people were never taught how to remain present to emotion in the first place.
Some grew up in homes where feelings were dismissed or mocked. Some learned very early that sadness made other people uncomfortable. Some discovered that anger was dangerous. Others learned to become “easy,” “strong,” or “fine” because there was no room for anything else.
So the inner life became something to manage rather than understand.
Hey, Can I have your attention for just a moment?
One of the reasons I care so deeply about this series is because I think many people have spent years surviving without ever being taught how to remain present to their own inner life with gentleness, honesty, and faith. We know how to stay busy. We know how to distract ourselves. But many people have never been shown how to sit with their own hearts without fear or shame.
That’s the deeper work this ministry is trying to offer.
Not shallow inspiration. Not religious performance. Real spiritual formation rooted in Christ and honest about what it means to be human.
And it continues because people choose to support it. So if this space has been helping you, thank you. Truly. Your support helps make work like this possible.
Avoidance often begins as protection.
That is Deeply Important to understand.
Your mind and body adapted in order to help you survive what felt overwhelming at the time. The problem is that protective patterns do not always know when the danger has passed. They continue operating long after they are needed.
Eventually, you may find yourself disconnected not only from painful emotions, but from your own heart altogether.
There are people who can organize an entire household, lead meetings, care for everyone around them, and still have no idea what they are actually feeling inside.
Not because they are shallow.
Because somewhere along the way, turning inward stopped feeling safe.
This is also where certain lies begin to take root.
“I shouldn’t feel this way.”
“If I were stronger, this wouldn’t bother me.”
“It is better not to go there.”
For some people, even acknowledging sadness or anxiety feels like failure. Others fear that if they allow themselves to feel what is inside, the emotion will swallow them whole.
But feelings are not enemies to defeat.
They are signals.
Witnesses.
Parts of your human experience asking to be noticed.
Christ endured nearly every form of suffering human beings can inflict upon one another. Humiliation. Betrayal. Physical agony. Abandonment. Public shame. Torture. Crucifixion.
And then came silence.
Between Good Friday and Easter morning, there is no triumph yet. No restored order. No visible resurrection. Just the unbearable stillness of Holy Saturday.
That silence has always unsettled people.
The early Church reflected deeply on what Christ was doing in those hidden hours, holding firmly to the belief that even death itself could not separate humanity from the saving presence of God. Christians came to speak of Christ descending to the dead, reaching even into the depths humanity could not reach on its own.
But here on earth, the disciples still had to live through the silence.
They had to remain present to grief and loss before they understood resurrection.
Most of us struggle with that part.
We want resolution immediately. Relief immediately. Meaning immediately. We want to move past pain before we have fully faced it. We would often rather distract ourselves than remain present to sorrow, fear, or uncertainty.
But emotional healing rarely works that way.
Psychologists David Kessler and John Bradshaw both expressed some version of the same difficult truth: you cannot heal from what you do not feel.
That is certainly not weakness.
It is part of being human.
The emotions we avoid do not disappear. They continue shaping us from beneath the surface. Anxiety becomes constant restlessness. Grief becomes numbness. Anger becomes cynicism. Loneliness becomes endless distraction.
Resurrection does not bypass this process.
Part of new life in Christ involves learning how to remain present long enough for truth, grief, healing, and grace to meet us honestly.
Scripture speaks about this kind of inner awareness far more than many people realize.
“Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.”
— Psalm 139
Stillness, in the spiritual life, is not about becoming emotionless.
It is about becoming present.
Present to God.
Present to yourself.
Present to what is actually happening within you instead of endlessly running from it.
That can feel unfamiliar at first.
Many people have spent years operating in survival mode, moving quickly enough to avoid noticing what lives underneath the surface. When the noise finally fades, there can be grief waiting there. Or exhaustion. Or fear. Sometimes anger. Sometimes loneliness that has been carried for far longer than anyone else realizes.
None of this means you are failing spiritually.
In many ways, awareness is where healing finally begins.
God does not only meet us in our polished prayers or composed moments. God meets us within the reality of our actual lives, including the parts we struggle to face ourselves. The Christian life is not built around pretending everything is fine. Resurrection does not erase the human heart. It restores it.
Part of new life in Christ is learning that we no longer need to fear what is true within us.
Not because every feeling is permanent.
Not because every emotion tells the whole truth.
But because we can begin bringing our inner life into the presence of God instead of abandoning ourselves there.
This week, try something very simple.
For a few minutes each day, put the distractions aside. No music. No scrolling. No multitasking.
Just remain present.
And when you notice a feeling rising up, resist the urge to immediately analyze it, fix it, or push it away. Instead, try saying honestly:
“I think I am anxious.”
“I think I am sad.”
“I think I am overwhelmed.”
“I am carrying more than I realized.”
You do not need to solve everything in that moment.
You are learning how to stop fleeing from yourself.
That takes time.
For many people, this will feel awkward at first. Even uncomfortable. Your mind may immediately try to pull you somewhere else. That does not mean you are doing it wrong. It simply means old patterns are still operating.
You were never taught how to remain present to your emotional life with patience and honesty. Most people were not.
But this is something you can learn.
Slowly.
Steadily.
Without pressure.
And as you begin allowing yourself to feel what has been buried beneath constant activity and distraction, you may discover that your emotions are not as dangerous as you feared. You may begin recognizing needs that have gone ignored for years. You may even notice God present in places you once avoided entirely.
We are moving deeper now.
The earlier stages of this journey asked us to notice our patterns and habits. Now we begin looking underneath them. This is often where real transformation starts, because change becomes possible when we stop running long enough to understand what is actually happening within us.
Nothing about this needs to be rushed.
The heart opens gradually.
In the next issue, we are going to explore some of the emotions people most commonly hide, suppress, or disconnect from, and what it means to face them without shame.
Until then, may Christ meet you in the still places you usually avoid.
May God give you courage to remain present to your own heart.
And may the Resurrection continue drawing you from avoidance into deeper life.
Amen.
Before you go, I just want to say this.
Many people are carrying far more than anyone around them realizes. They are exhausted, distracted, emotionally overwhelmed, and trying very hard to appear fine. Part of why I write these reflections is because I believe faith should help us become more whole, not less honest about what is happening within us.
That kind of writing takes time, care, prayer, study, and support to continue.
So if this series has been meaningful to you, I want to invite you to become a supporting member. Not because I want to pressure anyone, but because this ministry truly depends on the people who believe this kind of thoughtful, compassionate Christian work should exist in the world.
And for every person who supports it, it allows pieces like this one to reach someone else who may desperately need it right now.
With Tremendous Gratitude,
