Learning to Simply Be When Doing Fails You

“Show yourself some grace,” Terri said as we walked. “Now is a time for you to focus on healing and being rather than doing.”

She’s right.

When you’ve churned through trauma, grinded through loss, or survived a season of striving and struggle, you reach a point when doing doesn’t answer the bell and step into the ring anymore. Your soul throws in the towel and says no mas.

Your goals are empty and your hustle is hollow. The endless to-do lists add stress to an already boiling pot. Every part of you aches and begs for it all to stop. Just for one day. But, that one day never comes and now your only choice for survival is to exit stage left.

Suddenly. Abruptly. Without much explanation. Let them figure it out. You can’t breathe. You don’t feel safe. You feel empty and alone.

And then you’re left to be.

Being is harder than it sounds.

Like most of us, I learned early on that doing made me feel valuable. Productive. In control. We live in a society that asks “What have you done for me lately?” Ours is a culture of doing. Those who don’t produce, don’t eat. Everything is geared to outputs and outcomes. Little value is given to being.

When grief and PTSD surfaced in ways I couldn’t ignore, my inner machinery ground to a halt.

As I began my long journey towards recovery, I started with becoming more intentional about my physical health and fitness.

I started walking. I am trying to be more intentional about my eating. I’m paying attention to the quality of my sleep.

I’ve dropped 19 pounds.

My blood pressure and heart rate are down.

Terri and I committed to working out together twice a week. We are having more honest, deeper conversations that began with asking better questions. We are fighting for each other.

Being meant giving myself space.

And in that space, I heard things I hadn’t given room to breath.

Pain. Anger. Fear.

Not unexpectedly —God showed up.

Not as a distant taskmaster demanding more effort or as theological doctrine to be dissected. But as presence.

A quiet whisper that asked nothing of me but to simply be.

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.

James 1:2-3 ESV

I started leaning into new practices. Silence. Breath. Rhythm. Scripture that speaks gently rather than loudly.

One such practice—Lectio Divina—is especially grounding. It’s different than Bible study. It’s not performance. It’s not about gaining insight. It’s about listening and letting the Word read me as much as I read it. Lectio Divina is a way of praying with the Scriptures.

Read. Reflect. Respond. Rest.

Sometimes I walk away with a sense of greater clarity. Other times, I leave the passage with more questions than answers. But always, I sense God in it—patient, steady, not rushing. Beauty. Peace. Presence.

Friend, it’s okay if you find yourself in a place where doing just doesn’t work anymore.

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Try This: A Simple Practice of Being

Choose a short Scripture passage. Just a verse or two. Maybe three. Sit with it. Breathe.
Let a word rise to the surface.
Ask God, “Why this word? Why now?”
And then… listen.
Not for a quick lesson.
But for His love and presence.

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Some Scripture Starters:

• “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
• “Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10
• “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength.” — Isaiah 30:15
• “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

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Sometimes we feel sad and alone. But, we have lots to be grateful for and thankful for. And yeah, maybe you aren’t everybody’s cup of tea, but you aren’t alone. God is with you and He is for you.

Be salty, stay lit.

Rainer Bantau —The Devotional Guy™

#bgbg2#BibleGateway

The Stigma Stops Here.🛑

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