The Reformed Life

In today’s world, our phones have become our constant companions. They wake us up in the morning, provide us with endless entertainment throughout the day, and even stay by our side as we fall asleep at night. I was no different—until recently when I made a small but significant change in my nightly routine. I bought an alarm clock and placed my phone away from my bedside table. This simple act has opened my eyes to how deeply my phone had shaped my habits and how, without realizing it, it had distracted me from something far more important: my relationship with God.

The Quiet That Follows

For years, my nightly ritual included scrolling through my phone, whether checking social media, reading articles or just aimlessly browsing. This habit became a way to numb my mind and push away the anxieties and stresses that seemed to surface when I tried to sleep. I thought nothing of it—after all, it’s what everyone does, right?

But then came the change. When I started leaving my phone in another room and turning off the TV before bed, I found myself alone with my thoughts. In the stillness of the night, without the glow of a screen to distract me, my mind began to race. Thoughts of the day, worries about tomorrow, and anxieties I had pushed down during the day all came flooding back. It was unsettling. I realized that my phone had been a crutch, something I used to escape these moments of mental and emotional discomfort.

Facing the Silence

The silence, however, did more than bring my anxieties to the forefront—it forced me to confront how I had been dealing with them. Rather than turning to God in those moments, I turned to my phone. This realization was humbling. I had been trying to control my thoughts and feelings, relying on technology to distract me from what I didn’t want to face.

But without my phone, I had nowhere to run. So, in that quiet, I prayed.

Turning to God in the Quiet

At first, it wasn’t easy. My prayers were fragmented, interrupted by my racing thoughts. But over time, something began to shift. As I started to lay my anxieties before God, my mind began to settle. My prayers became more focused and more heartfelt. I wasn’t just going through the motions—I was truly seeking God’s presence in those moments of quiet desperation.

Through this, I learned that my dependence on my phone had been masking a deeper need—a need for God’s peace. Instead of scrolling to distract myself, I began using that time to talk to God, to listen for His voice and to rest in His promises. The quiet became not something to fear but a sacred space where I could meet with God.

Deepening My Relationship with God

This change has deepened my relationship with God in ways I hadn’t anticipated. My prayer life has become more intentional, and my trust in God’s sovereignty has become more profound. I’ve come to see those moments of racing thoughts not as something to escape but as opportunities to draw nearer to God. In a way, my phone had been robbing me of those precious moments, and it took stepping away from it to realize what I was missing.

Now, when I lie in bed, I reach out to God instead of reaching for my phone. And in doing so, I’ve found a peace that no amount of scrolling could ever provide.

Conclusion

In a world that constantly pulls us in a thousand different directions, it’s easy to become dependent on things that promise comfort but never truly satisfy. My phone was one of those things. But through a small change—a decision to put it away at night—I’ve discovered a deeper truth: that in those quiet moments, when the distractions are gone, God is there, waiting to meet me.

I encourage you to consider where you might be relying on distractions rather than depending on God. It may not be easy at first, but as I’ve learned, the quiet can become a beautiful space for growth, healing, and deeper intimacy with the One who loves us most.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Josh Chambers

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