Get Your Life Back: Everyday Practices for a World Gone Mad

by John Eldredge

We’re snagged by every new notification. And while we’ve always had our individual struggles and heartbreaks to deal with, now we have the tragedies of the entire world delivered to us hourly on our mobile devices. This is all very hard on the soul. Traumatizing, in fact.

God wants to come to us and restore our lives. He really does. But if our soul is not well, it’s almost impossible to receive him. Dry, scorched ground can’t absorb the very rain it needs. As C. S. Lewis explained, “The soul is but a hollow which God fills.”

We are aiming for release, turning over into the hands of God whatever is burdening us and leaving it there. It’s so easy to get caught up in the drama in unhealthy ways, and then we are unable to see clearly, set boundaries, respond freely.

Mature adults have learned how to create a healthy distance between themselves and the thing they have become entangled with. Thus the word detachment. It means getting untangled, stepping out of the quagmire; it means peeling apart the Velcro by which this person, relationship, crisis, or global issue has attached itself to you. Or you to it. Detachment means getting some healthy distance. Social media overloads our empathy. So I use the word “benevolent” in referring to this necessary kind of detachment because we’re not talking about cynicism or resignation. Benevolent means kindness. It means something done in love. Jesus invites us into a way of living where we are genuinely comfortable turning things over to him:

Which I think tells us that millions of people are feeling massively overburdened and looking for some way to lighten their heavy emotional load. This is something Jesus is particularly good at helping us with, which is why learning benevolent detachment is such a timely grace.

“How is it right to just let things go?” Quite simply, because you’re not God. You can’t save the world. You can’t even carry it. “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest?” (Luke 12:25–26). Jesus is quite serious about turning everything over to him, actually. So let’s repeat the invitation: Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly. (Matthew 11:28–30 the message) Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7) Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you. (the message) These aren’t suggestions. The Bible is not a book of suggestions.

As you practice release, what you’re doing is creating soul space; you are literally carving out the intellectual and emotional space for God to come in. If you build it, he will come. He wants to fill you.

Beauty is one of the richest graces God has provided to heal our souls and absorb his goodness.

Beauty comforts. Beauty heals. Why else would we send flowers to a hospital room or funeral?

Beauty is life-saving. . . . Augustine described it as “a plank amid the waves of the sea.” Proust makes a version of this claim over and over again. Beauty quickens. It adrenalizes. It makes the heart beat faster. It makes life more vivid, animated, living, worth living. . . . It is as though one has suddenly been washed up onto a merciful beach.1 That’s it—beauty rescues. It rescues because it is merciful, comforting. It heals, restores, revives, renews. This is why people in convalescence want to sit in a garden, or by a window overlooking the sea. Research shows that patients recovered faster, needed fewer pain killers, and left the hospital sooner if their windows allowed views of nature.

Beauty is such a gentle grace. Like God, it rarely shouts, rarely intrudes. Rather it woos, soothes, invites; it romances and caresses. We often sigh in the presence of beauty as it begins to minister to us—a good, deep soul-sigh.

Given beauty’s healing effects, given how it soothes the soul and opens us up to the goodness of God, I hope you will intentionally do two things: Receive it for the gift it is! Pause, and let the beauty minister to you. I receive this into my soul.

Stop and pick it up! In these moments you open yourself and receive the beauty, the gift, the grace—receive it into your being. Let it bring to you God’s love, his tenderness, his rich goodness.

Pause when you are offered beauty and make the conscious decision, I receive this grace. We open our clenched soul to let it in. To find God in it. I will often pray, Thank you for this beauty. I receive it into my soul. And with it I receive you, in it, by it, through it—your love, your goodness, your life. That receiving part is key.

Second, fill your world with beauty,

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world” (James 1:27). That unpolluted part—that’s what worries me, when the average American checks their phone eighty times a day (!), and 70 percent said they sleep with their phone within reach.

We are now faced with a series of decisions that are going to make us look like freaks—choices like fasting from social media, never bringing our smartphones to any meal, conversation, or Bible study, cutting off our media intake so we can practice stillness every day.

command; it came in the gentle spirit of kindness. Don’t do that to yourself. The practices I’m recommending in this book are offered in a spirit of kindness. I think it’s the only posture that will enable us to embrace them, enjoy them, and maintain them over time. Practicing the One Minute Pause is kind. Making room for beauty is kind. Unplugging from the constant barrage of media coming at us is kind. I do these things because they bring me life; they bring me more of God; they heal and strengthen my soul. Because the results are wonderful! Because I’d be a fool not to.

love your neighbor as yourself is “a horrible command,” C. S. Lewis pointed out, “if the self were simply to be hated.”1 The difficult truth we don’t want to admit is this: the way you treat your own heart is the way you’ll end up treating everyone else’s.

God is gentle; kindness is gentle. It flows both into us and through us in gentle whispers.

Kindness means not expecting perfection in these practices, not requiring yourself to feel anything, being gracious about your heart’s slow journey toward God.

Technology was going to make our lives easier, make room for doing the things we love. Exactly the opposite has taken place.

Technology took over our lives to be sure, but instead of creating more room for living, we have had to force ourselves to run to the dizzying pace of technology.

I wonder—how many situations that we would call “disappointments,” “hassles,” and “setbacks” might actually be the loving hand of God trying to slow us down for the sake of our souls, and so that we might receive him?

If you have five minutes waiting time, don’t look at your phone. Just . . . be. Look around; people watch. When planning events like holidays or vacations, or coming demands such as a memorial service we must attend, create a little space for the transition needed before and after. Especially after.

Let’s be honest—we will need to loosen our grasp on efficiency. Efficiency is often what drives us to remove all margin from our lives. To fill every moment. It is especially hard on our relationships.

Then I ran across a news release so shocking I had to read it twice. It didn’t make the front page, but it should have: the average person now spends 93 percent of their life indoors (this includes your transportation time in car, bus, or metro).2 Ninety-three percent—such a staggering piece of information. We should pause for a moment and let the tragedy sink in.

That means if you live to be 100, you will have spent 93 of those years in a little compartment and only 7 outside in the dazzling, living world. If we live to the more usual 75, we will spend 69 and three-fourths of our years indoors, and only 5 and one-fourth outside. This includes our childhood; how does a child be a child when they only venture outside a few months of their entire childhood? This is a catastrophe, the final nail in the coffin for the human soul. You live nearly all your life in a fake world: artificial lighting instead of the warmth of sunlight or the cool of moonlight or the darkness of night itself.

passions—this is the life God meant for us. It’s through our senses we learn most every important lesson. Even in spiritual acts of worship and prayer we are standing or kneeling, engaging bodily. God put your soul in this amazing body and then put you in a world perfectly designed for that experience. Which is why the rescue of the soul takes place through our engagement with the real world.

We are looking for more of God. You’re far more likely to find him in a walk through an orchard or a sit by a pond than you are in a subway terminal.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. (Psalm 23:1–3) Be careful you don’t dismiss this as something belonging to an agrarian age. God could have taken David into the palace to renew him; he could have taken him into the home of a friend or family member; he could have chosen the bustling markets of Jerusalem. In other words, there were plenty of indoor options for God to employ. But his choice for David’s resuscitation was nature, his greenhouse, filled with his own life, pulsing with his glory, unique in its ability to restore and renew his children.

Relief is momentary; it’s checking out, numbing, sedating yourself. Television is relief. Eating a bag of cookies is relief. Tequila is relief. And let’s be honest—relief is what we reach for because it’s immediate and usually within our grasp. Most of us turn there, when what we really need is restoration. Nature heals; nature restores. Think of sitting on the beach watching the waves roll in at sunset and compare it to turning on the tube and vegging in front of Narcos or Fear the Walking Dead. The experiences could not be further apart.

So I stayed on the porch, choosing to ignore the chorus of vendors trying to get me to leave in search of some relief (Your favorite show is on; maybe what you want is wine . . . ). I knew if I left all I would find was sugar or alcohol, and my soul would be no better for it. So I chose to let the evening continue to have its healing ministry. Remember—God doesn’t like to shout. His invitations are much more gentle.

Touch nature. I’m serious—every day, your soul needs to engage creation. There’s all sorts of research showing how healing this is.10

Nature heals, teaches, strengthens, soothes; it brings us the presence of God, for “The whole earth is filled with his glory” (Isaiah 6:3 nlt). Go let it restore your soul—daily, whenever possible.

God’s outpouring of himself is conditional. I know, I know—we’ve been told all about the unconditional love of God. Absolutely—his grace is unconditional; his forgiveness is available to all. However, intimacy with him, the treasures of his presence, the outpouring of his vibrant being into our thirsty souls—that’s for those who love him. Even in the best friendship, the act of giving and receiving love ebbs and flows with the willingness of the two involved to make it a priority, to invest themselves. God’s heart is very much like yours in this way, for your heart is made in his image.

You’ll be out for a bike ride in the very early morning, cool breeze in your face, all the sweet, fresh aromas it brings, the exhilaration of speed, and your heart spontaneously sings, I love this! The next step is to say, So does God. He made this moment; he made these things. He is the creator of everything I love. Your heart will naturally respond by opening toward him. It’s like throwing your faith a lifeline: Every wonderful thing in your life is a gift from God, an expression of his heart toward you.

Because life is a savage assault on our heart’s confidence that God is good—and thus our union with him—the practice of reminding ourselves he is the creator of everything we love will be a rescue of our faith.

And there is another practice that you will find equally helpful: Love God in your suffering.

Even if you feel you can’t sort it out right now, you stay present to the dialogue instead of leaving the country. Your intimacy with God, this heart-to-heart love we were made for, this is the thing Satan most hates, and it has to be fought for. Not just by God, by the way; don’t wait for him to make it better. Far too many people react to God in adolescent anger, like Elsa in Frozen. We must live maturely, knowing that whatever else is happening, we must preserve the relationship if we would find our way.

Make an offering of your suffering. Love God in it.

It’s no secret that the comparison factor in social media leads to jealousy—most people will admit that seeing other people’s tropical vacations and perfectly behaved kids is envy-inducing. Studies have certainly shown that social media use triggers feelings of jealousy. The authors of one study, looking at jealousy and other negative feelings while using Facebook, wrote that “This magnitude of envy incidents taking place on FB alone is astounding, providing evidence that FB offers a breeding ground for invidious feelings.” They add that it can become a vicious cycle: feeling jealous can make a person want to make his or her own life look better, and post jealousy-inducing posts of their own, in an endless circle of one-upping and feeling jealous.2

Envy first brings depression: “My life isn’t as good as yours.” Then comes offense: “Why should you have what I don’t have?” Which degrades into hatred. Our culture is characterized by the Offended Self.

One of the great embarrassments of Christianity, something that distresses Christians and non-Christians alike, is the fact that people who have aligned themselves with Jesus Christ can still act in such vain, stupid, pompous, mean, and hateful ways. The simple explanation is, they’ve continued to operate from the Self Life.

Your personhood is not the problem; the issue is who is at the helm? What is fueling and motivating your faculties? Who gets to drive the bus? When we let Self rule, it obscures our awareness of God, thwarts our ability to receive him. And the Self Life is a crushing burden to bear.

“Envy cannot bear to admire or respect. It cannot bear to be grateful,” wrote Sayers.10 So a wonderful way to thwart the Self is to admire and be grateful. Pray for people who are in a better situation than you are, who are more gifted than you are, or who currently have wonderful circumstances coming their way. Rejoice with those who rejoice. Pray for someone else’s promotion, someone else’s pregnancy, someone else’s healing. That crucifies envy.

Make no room for offense. Given the social air we breathe, this is going to be enormously helpful. Whenever, wherever you see offense cropping up, crucify it—give it no hold.

Cultivate admiration. When you’re scrolling through social media (which I hope is less and less these days), and you come across someone’s wonderful life, cheer for them. Praise God for it. Make it personal: “Lord, she’s such a wonderful singer; I pray she gets chosen to lead worship next week instead of me.”

Free yourself from the culture of comparison, envy, and the offended Self by unplugging from the matrix of the internet whenever possible. Why swim in that stuff?

When talking with someone, don’t secretly wait your turn. Be present to them; let the focus remain on them until they ask about you. Even if they never do.