More
This year, my word has been “more.”
At first, that word felt like it might mean more doing, more building, more growth, more productivity. But God has been gently redefining it in a way I didn’t expect. This has not been a season of more noise or more striving—it has been a season of more peace. Not manufactured peace, not temporary calm, but the steady, grounding peace of God that doesn’t depend on circumstances.
And honestly, it has changed everything.
“Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.”
— Philippians 4:7 NLT
That verse has stopped being an idea and started becoming an experience.
More Peace in a Loud World
We live in a world that is constantly loud. Opinions, updates, opinions about updates—endless scrolling that rarely leads to rest. I’ve noticed how easy it is to confuse information with formation. We think because we are consuming content about God, we are automatically growing closer to Him.
But I’m learning something different:
You don’t become spiritually full by watching other people talk about God. You become full by being with God.
There is a difference between hearing about Him and actually sitting with Him.
“Be still, and know that I am God!”
— Psalm 46:10 NLT
Stillness is not something the modern world rewards, but it is something the soul desperately needs.
The Quiet Problem of Social Media
Social media is not inherently evil, but it is absolutely loud. And anything loud enough can begin to drown out what is holy, subtle, and life-giving.
For me, I started noticing that even “good” content—Christian encouragement, sermons, devotionals—can become a substitute for intimacy with God if I’m not careful. It can feel like nourishment while slowly replacing the actual meal.
The danger isn’t just distraction—it’s displacement.
What was meant to support my walk with God began competing with it.
“Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.”
— Matthew 6:33 NLT
Seeking first means there can’t be something else constantly occupying first place in my attention.
Less Screen. More Presence.
I’ve realized I don’t need more time on my screens watching people tell me about God.
I need more time alone with Him, in His Word, in prayer, in silence, in surrender.
There is a kind of spiritual clarity that only comes when the noise is removed.
So I started making space for that.
And recently, I had an unexpected but powerful experience: three days completely without my phone.
Three Days of “Being Dead” to the World
In a symbolic way, it felt like I was “dead” to the outside world for three days—the same amount of time Jesus was in the grave.
No notifications. No scrolling. No checking in. No reacting. No consuming.
At first, I noticed the withdrawal. The habit of reaching for something that wasn’t there. But then something shifted.
The silence didn’t feel empty—it felt full.
I started noticing God in ways I hadn’t in a while. My thoughts slowed down. My prayer life deepened. Scripture felt alive again instead of familiar background noise. My priorities began to reorder themselves without me forcing it.
It was as if space had been cleared in my heart again.
“Let’s go off by ourselves to a quiet place and rest awhile.”
— Mark 6:31
That invitation doesn’t feel optional anymore—it feels necessary.
What I Learned in the Quiet
Those three days reminded me of something I don’t want to forget:
God is not found in urgency.
God is not competing for attention—He is patiently inviting it.
And peace is not something I chase; it is something I return to when I return to Him.
I came away realizing that I don’t need more content—I need more communion.
Not more voices explaining God to me, but more moments where I actually sit with Him and let Him speak.
“Only in returning to me and resting in me will you be saved. In quietness and confidence is your strength.”
— Isaiah 30:15
More of Him, Less of Everything Else
This “more” I am stepping into is not louder—it is quieter.
It is not faster—it is slower.
It is not crowded—it is sacred.
More peace.
More presence.
More Word.
More prayer.
More stillness.
And less of whatever competes with those things.
Closing Prayer
Father,
Thank You for the gift of Your peace—the kind that the world cannot manufacture and the noise of life cannot destroy. I confess how easily I get pulled into distraction, into scrolling, into consuming instead of abiding.
Teach me what it means to truly seek You first. Help me to value Your presence more than constant stimulation, and Your Word more than endless input. Quiet my mind when it races. Reorder my desires when they drift.
If there is anything in my life that is stealing my attention from You, gently remove it. If there are habits that are shaping me away from You, lovingly break them. And if there are places of silence You are inviting me into, give me courage to stay there with You.
Let this be a season of more—not more noise, but more You.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
