I know that feeling when the carousel spins faster and faster. Everyday life becomes a vortex of appointments, expectations, and information, constantly crashing down on us. We try to keep up, to stay on top of everything, to miss nothing. But instead of a sense of mastery, a quiet panic sets in. An inner restlessness that doesn't subside, even at night.
It feels like being in a car hurtling too fast down a winding road. You cling to the steering wheel, knuckles white, hoping not to be thrown off course. Eventually, you start to feel sick. It's precisely this nausea I sometimes feel on a spiritual level. These sudden anxiety attacks that seem to appear out of nowhere, a racing heart, a feeling of being overwhelmed that paralyses you.
We think we just need to plan better, be more efficient, manage our time more strictly. We chase control because we believe it will bring us security and peace. But the exact opposite is true. Our attempt to get a grip on life is the very source of our restlessness. We cling to something that slips through our fingers like sand.
The Flight Forwards
When the silence becomes too loud, we seek distraction. A film, the next series, endless scrolling through social media. We live in a society that entertains us non-stop. Every empty moment must be filled. The main thing is that we don't have to be alone with ourselves. Because in the silence, we would encounter the echo of our own soul, and we fear that.
This constant overstimulation dulls us. We unlearn how to perceive the quiet, the delicate, the inconspicuous. A walk in the woods becomes an athletic achievement, measured in steps and calories burned, instead of an immersion in creation. We no longer hear the rustling of leaves, we no longer truly feel the wind on our skin. We are present, but not truly there.
We function instead of living. We manage our lives instead of receiving them. Constant entertainment is like a cheap substitute for true joy, a loud drug against inner emptiness.
What We Lose Along the Way
In this flight, we lose connection. Connection to ourselves, to the people around us, and ultimately, to God. Our relationships become more superficial because we lack the energy for genuine empathy. We have no reserves left to truly engage with another's suffering or joy.
Our body and soul have a rhythm that we violently ignore. We override fatigue with coffee and inner restlessness with even more activity. It's no wonder so many of us burn out, that anxiety and despondency become widespread ailments. It is the logical consequence of a life lived against its own nature.
You can imagine it like a tree whose roots only spread across the surface. As long as the sun shines and there's no wind, that might be fine. But as soon as the first real storm comes, it has no hold and is uprooted. The same happens to us if we don't have deep spiritual roots.
An Ancient Path That Sustains
The good news is: we don't have to invent this anchor anew. It has existed for a long time. It is a foundation that has sustained people for millennia. It is a path that proved its worth long before smartphones and packed schedules existed. This path is not a technique or a method for self-optimisation. This path is a person.
Jesus Christ said something disarmingly simple and profound. It's not advice, but a statement about himself. He didn't say he would show a way, but that he is the way.
Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." (John 14:6 ESV)
In this one sentence lies everything we long for. A way out of our lostness. A truth that stands firm in a world full of opinions and lies. And a life that is more than mere functioning.
How I Learn to Let Go
For me, embarking on this path primarily means one thing: learning to surrender control. This doesn't happen overnight, and it's a daily struggle. It means not starting the day by looking at my phone and my to-do list, but in silence. With a simple prayer. With the admission that I cannot manage it alone today and need His help.
It means not suppressing fear when it arises, but specifically holding it out to Him. I tell Him what worries me, where I feel overwhelmed. The problems don't simply disappear. But I am no longer alone with them. An indescribable burden lifts from my shoulders when I know He carries it with me.
This path does not lead to a life without challenges. But it does lead to a peace that the world cannot give. A rest that does not depend on my circumstances, but on His presence. It is not a state you reach once. It is a relationship you live. Anew each day. And this life, this real, deep, sustained life, begins immediately when you simply cling to Him and stay with Him.