Antidote to an Anxious Age
Again and again, Scripture speaks of dwelling in God. But what does it mean to truly dwell in him, and could this practice help shape me into a non-anxious presence in an anxious age?
Hey friends!
Thanks so much for your patience with this latest post. Summer seems to have come and gone so quickly but I managed to get some time to completely switch off which I’m grateful for.
I spent the last two weeks of August in the U.S. visiting family and friends, which was a beautiful ending to a busy summer season. Soon after returning, I headed up to the Midlands, just north of London, for a staff retreat with work. On the early morning train, jet lag tugging me back toward sleep, I found myself replaying the last four months. So much has happened in such a short time, from losing Poppy and moving through grief to running Boldly Rising in person for the first time to changing roles at work to stepping into a podcast project and restructuring my memoir. So many of these things are part of a larger story of prayer on the journey of calling as I’ve leaned into purpose and learned to trust God with what’s next.
Now, I face important steps in every one of these areas. When I stack it all up, I can easily begin to feel overwhelmed by all there is to do and, if I’m honest, my instinct is to try and control it all as a familiar anxiety wiggles its way into my days. In busier seasons, I find myself slipping so easily into rumination and self-reliance, clinging again to the illusion of control. Can you relate to this?
Yet, when I pause to actually lean into the Lord, I sense his invitation to slow down the pace and make him my dwelling place. And maybe, just maybe, this is an antidote to an anxious age. Because the way forward isn’t in striving; it’s in learning to dwell in God and live in his peace, only then can I walk in his purposes and be a witness to his presence for others.
So, let’s dig in together…
What is the recipe for a life that abides in God’s presence?
I settled into the coziness of my spiritual director’s couch where we have our monthly meetings. The interior shutters always let just enough light in that the beams dance along the walls and often catch the glimmer of gold leaves on the tree of a painting she has on the wall. Shoes off, I sit cross-legged on the couch with my eyes closed and hands open, slowing myself down for a moment in the stillness of God’s presence.
The room always feels quite holy. Perhaps it is all the prayer and presence of God moving through as she facilitates her sessions. Or maybe God is simply keeping up his side of the deal, showing up in peace as I give way to stillness and make space to hear his voice. It’s the kind of room you could sit in for hours, unaware of the passing of time, completely unplugged from the world and yet somehow still in it.
“What do you want to bring into the session today, Jamie?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to make God my dwelling place. I guess I sense this invitation from him to live in his presence in the whole of my life in such a way that nothing shakes me, nothing offends me, where I can resist fear, where I can live into purpose without worry of what’s next, where I can be a steady, non-anxious presence in the world.”
What’s the recipe for this kind of life?
Because it seems this is the kind of life we’re invited into as Christians. When we accept Jesus, God promises to make his home in us through his Spirit, to dwell in us. As we engage in Christian spiritual formation, seeking to keep Jesus at the center of our lives and live like him in the world, God quite literally transforms us from the inside out, renewing our minds, helping us become the people of love and peace we’re called to be.
Yet, on any given day, there are a thousand distractions vying for my attention and, more often than not, the worries of the world feel weighty, and my tendency in all my humanity is to try and carry it all. In my effort to change the world, I strap on self-sufficiency and pick up the baton as if it’s me alone running the race. I so easily forget it’s never been me doing any of the saving, it’s always been Jesus. And the weightiness of the world and all its worries will absolutely crush me if I bear them alone. It’s Jesus who says, “For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:30).
What does it mean to make God my dwelling place?
I know this work is lifelong, but what I’ve found to be true so far is that it means actively seeking God’s presence in the whole of my life, building a life on the foundation of his love with prayer and honesty, building rhythms and practices that keep him at the center of my days. It requires me to lay down my worries and fears, surrendering all I so easily want to cling to, and simply following the way of Jesus. It invites me to slow down my pace to make room for more of God, to be interruptible by his presence, to pay attention to his Spirit in the every day.
It beckons me into real love, the kind of love that allows me to be fully myself and the kind of love that encourages me to love my neighbour in a way I’m incapable of on my own. It asks for a death to self: surrendering the hungry, hurried, grasping parts of me that chase worldly gain, and instead lean into the quiet, steadied life the Spirit bears — love, patience, mercy, self-control, grace — made visible in the world through Christ in me. It’s an intentional and present life of prayer.
In doing so, I begin and end each day with the Lord, and try to fill the space between with whispered prayers and the practice of his presence. And the more space I create in my life for God, the more I experience the fruitfulness of making him my dwelling place. Because when I make time for God, I realise he is always there already waiting, ready to pour his love into my days, his wisdom in my decisions, and his grace into my mistakes.
And the reality is, my circumstances still might not look the way I want them to at times. And I’m still often tempted to cling tightly and try to control the outcome. But, as I draw myself back to God in these moments, making him my dwelling place, as I practice noticing his Spirit, something shifts within me. The anxious presence that urges me more, more, more; do, do, do, softens, and I notice a deeper space that whispers, just be with me. Just trust me. I love you.
You see the more I dwell in God’s presence, intentionally seeking him in this way, the more I trust him in the mystery and the more I feel the pressures of anxiety and worry loosen. Within me, I sense a calm and steady presence taking shape, born of the Spirit dwelling within and birthed out of a deeper desire to seek God above all else.
Because when I seek him, I am finally home.
I have always been called to dwell in God’s presence.
This isn’t just experiential, it’s deeply biblical. From the very beginning, God’s desire has been to dwell among his people. And even when in our humanity we turn away, he never stops pursuing us, continually opening a way for us to step into his invitation. An invitation for you and for me to dwell in him all our days.
Biblically speaking, the language of ‘dwelling’ and ‘dwelling place’ is deeply woven into the story of God’s presence with his people.
In the Old Testament, God instructs the Israelites to build the tabernacle, a portable sanctuary so God could dwell among his people through the wilderness and into the promised land. The tabernacle was not just a sacred tent, it was a tangible sign of God’s presence and glory amongst his people. Actually the Hebrew verb shakan (“to dwell”) is at the root of mishkan (“tabernacle”), so right from the beginning these ideas are closely linked. The tabernacle is the place where God dwells.
We see the same theme emerging in the New Testament but in a completely new light. John points to Jesus as the presence of God among his people declaring, “the Word became flesh [Jesus] and dwelt [tabernacled] among us” (John 1:14). Before his crucifixion and resurrection Jesus says, “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Helper [the Holy Spirit], to be with you forever, even the Spirit of truth… You know him, for he dwells with you and will be in you” (John 14:16–17). And even at the climax of the Biblical story, we read this continued longing for God to be among people as it says in Revelation 21:3, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people.”
You see, God’s longing to be our dwelling place, to live amongst us, for us to know him intimately, to dwell in us and us in him — this is one of the most consistent threads in the story of God and his people. This is the life we are called to, the life we are invited into, to make God our dwelling place.
And when I make God my dwelling place, I become a living tabernacle, bearing witness to God’s presence in a world desperate for his peace.
In the very first moment of humanity’s creation, we see God’s desire to be present with them. He creates man and woman in his image and walks with them in the Garden. The language here is fascinating. When the biblical narrative describes the creation of women, it says that God took a rib from Adam and formed the woman from it.
The Hebrew word translated as “rib” (tselaʿ) is the same word used for the side or wall of the tabernacle in other parts of Scripture. Literally from these very first references of the creation of human beings, our bodies are not just physical entities but have a sacred dimension, living tabernacles, our bodies are quite literally a temple for the Lord to dwell in.
This invites me into a relationship with God that is embodied, deeply lived within my body. You see, the creation story isn’t only about origins, it’s about identity. We were made in God’s image, formed as living temples, designed for his Spirit to dwell within us. And the fulfilment of this promise from God to dwell in us came through Jesus, through his sacrifice on the cross which allowed the Holy Spirit to come live within us.
So when I accept Jesus and the Holy Spirit lives in me as promised, God makes his home within me. Making God my dwelling place is recognizing this and living out of this truth, knowing that what God wants for my life is the deepest happiness and fulfilment in who he designed me to be, an image bearer. My calling in its most simplest form is to be a witness to the presence of God in the world, sharing the good news of Jesus.
David Benner says, “St. Ignatius of Loyola notes that sin is unwillingness to trust that what God wants is our deepest happiness. Until I am absolutely convinced of this, I will do everything I can to keep my hands on the controls of my life, because I think I know better than God what I need for fulfilment.”
When I make God my dwelling place, I trust him with my future. I lean into the truth that he will work everything together for my good, that his deepest desire is for my happiness and fulfilment, and in doing so, I loosen my grip on the things I long to control.
But, I have to choose to make God my dwelling place, turning toward him in all life’s unfolding, in sadness and grief, in joy and celebration. It’s in this surrendering and releasing where I experience true freedom. It’s in seeking him above all else that I find his peace that surpasses all understanding, his hope that grounds me in a secure future, and his love that is poured out to me endlessly through grace.
And perhaps in the process, I can learn how to be a non-anxious presence in an anxious age, bearing witness to the presence of a loving God in a world that is desperate for hope and peace.
A simple prayer to close…
Gracious and loving God, make your presence known to me in this very moment and throughout my day. Help me pay attention to your Spirit living within me and show me how to dwell in you in the whole of my life, bearing witness to your goodness and love in this world. In Jesus name, amen.
The Poetry Nook
One of my favourite poems by Mary Oliver, “The Journey”
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.
There’s a Book on That
Brother Lawrence’s The Practice of the Presence of God is a collection of rich conversations and letters written by Brother Lawrence, a 17th-century Carmelite monk. Throughout the letters, he shares his simple yet profound approach to faith, cultivating an awareness of God’s presence in the every day moments of life. Brother Lawrence shares how true peace and joy are found in constant communion with God, inviting us to dwell in God’s presence in the whole of our lives.
As always, here’s a taster:
“I found myself changed all at once; and my soul, which till that time was in trouble, felt a profound inward peace, as if it had found its centre and place of rest. Ever since that time, I have been and am now walking before God in simple faith, with humility, and with love.”
Podcast Update
Podcast development is underway for Desert Mothers, a podcast exploring what it means to live a life set apart for Christ in today’s cultural moment. Rooted in building on the legacy of the women of faith who have come before us, especially the early Desert Mothers, this podcast seeks to encourage and equip a new generation of women to rise as modern-day “desert mothers”: spiritual leaders, truth-tellers, and culture shapers whose lives embody the abundant flourishing found in following Jesus.
Karley and I will be filming and recording over the next six months, hoping to release the first season of Desert Mothers in early 2026. I’ll continue to update you as our timeline for launch gets clearer. I’d love to ask you to pray for us as we continue to develop the content and record — this is a new venture for us both so we’re moving slowly and intentionally as we keep our hearts and minds focused on Jesus throughout the process.
Just in case you missed these recent posts:
A Prayer for Indifference: Am I moving at a pace that allows me to pay attention to the presence of God? A prayer for indifference helps me pause as I seek to align my life with God's will.
Should I stay or should I go?: Discernment is key for decision making, but we can never be 100% certain we're making the right call. At some point, we just have to make the decision and trust God with the outcome.
In Good Company: We are called to build community - imperfect, messy, joyful, real community. We are called to be people of love.
Reading Scripture: With over 5 billion copies sold, the Bible is consistently the best selling book of all time. What's so special about this ancient text? How can it possibly be relevant to me today?
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Thanks again for reading this month’s newsletter. Cheers to diving into the deep together!
With love,
Jamie