The Calm

Last year, I took part in an exercise to get still, quiet, and just listen. We were instructed to observe whatever was going on around us in a quiet patch of woods with a creek running through it. Naturally drawn to water, I picked a spot right on the bank.

Upstream, the creek was narrow, choked with large stones, busily churning and roaring as the current forced its way through the rock-strewn path. But directly in front of me, the creek widened into a deeper section. It didn't look like much at first glance. The water flowed so calmly it barely made a sound. Sitting there with a notebook, I realized a profound lesson was flowing right past me: the noisy, churning water is where the obstacles are, but the quiet water is where the depth lives.

It’s easy to pray when the ground is shaking under your feet and the rocks are churning the water. When life hits a crisis like a health scare, a broken relationship, or a financial valley our spiritual instincts kick into high gear. But what happens when the waters widen out? What happens when the job is stable, the bills are paid, and life feels genuinely good? This is where your real character starts to show.

Whether you’re a Gen X who has navigated decades of life’s rapids, or a Gen Z establishing your footing in a loud, hyper-connected world, the trap of prosperity is identical: comfort breeds complacency. If you only train during the storm, you will spend your entire life reacting instead of standing firm.

Level up your resistance. Think about strength training. When a weight starts to feel light and easy, you don't stay at that same weight forever—not if you want to grow. You add another plate to the bar. Spiritual life works the exact same way. When the pressure drops and your daily routine feels smooth, that easy phase isn't an invitation to coast; it’s your cue to increase the load. If your current spiritual discipline feels effortless, push further. Pick up a deeper study, step into harder leadership roles, or expand your commitment to serving others. Real muscle is built by intentionally increasing the weight when life isn't forcing it on you.

Stay hungry, stay foolish. Steve Jobs famously urged people to "Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish." While usually quoted in tech boardrooms, the concept belongs in our spiritual life. It fits perfectly during the quiet seasons. When things are going well, the world tells you to settle in, enjoy the comfort, and take it easy. Staying hungry means refusing to let comfort satisfy your appetite for spiritual depth. Staying foolish means being willing to keep seeking, growing, and stepping out in bold faith even when the people around you think you’ve already "arrived." Don't let success make you soft.

Stones of Remembrance. Throughout history, people built monuments after victories to remember and provide purpose. Gratitude is the anchor that prevents comfort from turning into pride. Mark your good seasons with active generosity, intentional worship, and reflective journaling. Document what peace feels like right now so that when the season inevitably shifts, you have a clear record of truth to carry you through. That has been especially helpful for me. I can look back at seasons I've written about and remember to press on when things are calm.

Spiritual growth doesn't pause when the water calms; the battlefield simply changes. Don't let the stillness fool you into dropping your training weight. That calm, deep water is where your real strength is built.