Our frenetic busyness is so often a practical outworking of an unconscious despair, for it is a refusal of hope. It is a refusal of hope because it is, functionally, a refusal of trust and dependence. When I am frantically busy, I subtly (or not so subtly) am assuming that everything depends on me, as if I’m the one upholding the cosmos, as if the arrival of the kingdom depends on me.
