Stillness is so hard to come by. I’m the most distracted I’ve ever been, but it felt insurmountable this past season. I knew the enemy was coming for my stillness because I was made aware of how bad it was and was trying to slow down. That’s just how it goes.

Our culture doesn’t help with stillness, either. Our world only rewards us for movement—for progress, hours worked, quotas hit, money made, classes taken, and tasks completed. We even compare minutes spent listening to Spotify at the end of every year. We’re literally competing for who has the noisiest life.

Stillness and silence go hand in hand. It’s like we need our brains to always be in motion, too, so we fill it with noise. But there is good noise—or at least helpful, beneficial noise like worship music, podcasts, audiobooks/audio bible, whatever else you use to grow your spiritual life. All of that is good and helpful, but what if we never turn it off? What if there’s never a moment of true quiet? It feels almost impossible to imagine…

I can remember my first experience with anxiety as an adult. At the time, I was leading a small group of several post-grad girls from out of town. One of the girls mentioned that she struggled with anxiety—the way she described it was more serious than I was familiar with. I remember thinking to myself (and I even told her later), that I have never truly experienced anxiety—not like that. Until I did.

At the end of each year, I use Jennie Allen’s Dream Guide to reflect on what’s passed and dream toward what’s ahead.