A View from a Pew: Stop Hiding and Start Living

There is a quiet danger that comes with time—not loud, not sudden, but slow and subtle. It doesn’t announce itself as despair.
It shows up as comfort.

We get used to staying in. Used to the chair. Used to the routine that asks nothing of us and gives very little back. At first, it feels like rest. But over time, rest without purpose turns into retreat. And retreat, if we’re not careful, becomes hiding. The body was not designed for constant stillness. Neither was the mind. When we stop moving, the body stiffens—but the thoughts start running. Memories replay. Regrets rehearse. Fears get louder.

We sit still, but our minds pace the floor. And slowly, without realizing it, we begin shrinking our world.
We stop answering calls. Stop going places we once enjoyed. Stop believing there’s anything out there worth the effort.

Not because life has nothing to offer—but because life now feels heavy. Here’s the hard part to admit: Sometimes the heaviness isn’t what happened to us. It’s what we stopped doing afterward.

I’ve learned that many people are not broken—they are inactive. They are not faithless—they are disconnected. They are not lazy—they are worn down from carrying too much alone for too long.

And the longer we remain hidden, the more unfamiliar movement becomes. Even joy begins to feel exhausting.
Even light feels intrusive.

But God never designed healing to happen in isolation.

From the very beginning, Scripture reminds us that God moves. He walks in the garden. He leads people out, not into confinement.
He tells the lame man to rise, the blind man to look, the withered man to stretch.

Notice something powerful: Movement often comes before the miracle.

“Stretch forth your hand.” “Take up your bed and walk.” “Go and wash.”

Faith was never passive. It always required a step. Some of us are praying for peace while refusing to move. Praying for clarity while staying indoors. Praying for joy while avoiding life. And God, in His gentle way, keeps whispering: “Come outside.” Not outside to perform.
Not outside to impress. Not outside because everything is suddenly fixed. Outside to breathe. Outside to feel the sun remind your body that it’s still alive. Outside to let your nervous system calm down in the presence of creation.

The world is still moving—and you’re meant to move with it.

Sometimes healing begins with a walk around the block. Sometimes revival starts with opening the curtains. Sometimes deliverance looks like stepping onto the porch and letting light touch places that have been dark for too long.

The enemy loves isolation. But life thrives in motion.

So if you’re tired, don’t disappear. If you’re hurting, don’t hide. If you’re weary, don’t retreat from the very world that can help restore you.

Take a step—even a small one. Sit in the sun.
Hear the birds. Let the wind preach to you when words feel like too much.

Because the longer you hide from life, the heavier life becomes. But the moment you move—even trembling, even unsure—something inside you begins to wake up.

And that awakening, my friend, is not just physical. It’s spiritual.

Stop hiding. Start living. Even if all you can do today is take one step toward the door— Take it.