Weaning off “Busy”
This is revised and updated from a blog originally posted during the Coronavirus pandemic. It is a reminder that what was imposed on us then teaches us now. Though the topic of lockdowns seem dated, the call to wean off busy is timely.
Government-mandated lockdowns create isolation, but the real question is: do they isolate us from something or to something? Our response depends on our perspective.
In Psalm 131, King David offers a mature outlook, saying he is neither haughty nor proud but has “calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child with its mother” (v. 2). As someone who has weaned six children, I understand the difference between the gentle weaning of young children from breastmilk and the more complex “weaning” of adult children from other forms of dependency. With this in mind, I share my reflections on how to face isolation, and when it is over, perhaps to choose it.
“…like a weaned child I am content.” Ps 131:2
Government-mandated lockdowns create isolation, but the real question is: do they isolate us from something or to something? Our response depends on our perspective.
In Psalm 131, King David offers a mature outlook, saying he is neither haughty nor proud but has “calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child with its mother” (v. 2). As someone who has weaned six children, I understand the difference between the gentle weaning of young children from breastmilk and the more complex “weaning” of adult children from other forms of dependency. With this in mind, I share my reflections on how to face isolation, and when it is over, perhaps to choose it.
First, recognize the opportunity before us. Our busy, task-driven lives are filled with to-do lists, technology, and the constant reach for keys, phones, remotes, food, drink, and other “things” that reinforce our carefully crafted images. This relentless pursuit has been divinely interrupted, offering a chance to shift our perspective. While we might see the pandemic as an obstacle to our usual pursuits, clinging to that view risks missing the gift of being set apart with Christ. Perhaps the interruption is an invitation to a deeper experience of union with Him.
Second, rejoice in the weaning. For the Hebrew people, for whom the Psalms were originally written, this milestone marks a child’s “ripening” into personhood. It is a significant moment of growth. King David reflects this celebration when he says he no longer concerns himself with “lofty things” (v. 1). Today, he wouldn’t be caught up in comparing news sources or debating statistics, systems, and symptoms—he would simply be still. Like a weaned child resting contentedly in its mother’s arms, no longer clamoring for milk but enjoying her presence with a full heart, we too can approach our Provider. We can enjoy a break from the hurry and the busy that distracted us from Him.
Third, refuse to go back. Once children experience the variety and deep satisfaction of solid foods—breads, fruits, meats—they don't return to the breast. In the same way, as we taste and experience the abundant provision of the One who has ordained this season for us, and delight in Him as our Provider, the idea of returning to our former ambitions and identity-driven pursuits becomes as absurd as a college student coming home for breastmilk. (The thought is humorous as my adult children return home due to canceled classes and jobs. Not only do I no longer see them as “babies,” but I sometimes have to resist the invitation to view them as parents!)
Fourth, remain in Him! King David urges, “Israel, put your hope in the Lord both now and forevermore.” The Hebrew word for “hope” is closely tied to the idea of “waiting,” calling us to embrace this posture both now and for eternity. Regardless of government timelines, our call to remain in Him is for the long haul! We can take heart from Israel’s example—though they waited for the Messiah for generations, enduring 400 years of prophetic silence, their hope was fulfilled. Whether our season of isolation lasts weeks or months, we are to be rooted in a hope that endures forever!
Finally, in my previous reflection on “Peace in the Storm,” I acknowledged that many see this isolation as the storm itself. But I propose it may more likely mark the end of a storm—an opportunity for us to anchor ourselves in lasting hope. May this be true in me.
Addendum:
Hindsight offers much to researchers who will likely spend years analyzing COVID’s impact across various fields and demographics. But I wonder how many of us have taken the time to investigate the lessons within ourselves? Did we identify defining moments, thoughts, and values? Or did we, like racehorses at the gate, bolt at the first opportunity?
Like many, I returned to the new normal with a sigh of relief, but unlike most, I continued in isolation while finishing my doctoral research and dissertation. My sigh of relief—and the chance to truly reflect—only came after my dissertation defense. I often describe the six months that followed as “wandering aimlessly, unsure of my direction.” When I finally recovered from the exhaustion, I couldn’t tell what was COVID-related and what was tied to my doctoral work. In the end, it doesn’t really matter—what matters is the encouragement I hope to offer through this blog.
What matters is that without discipline, the clamor and busyness will inevitably return. Dissatisfaction is part of the human condition, but so is the need for rest.
Like a tired child who demands more play despite being too exhausted for self-control, we must heed the cry of our souls for rest. Everywhere we turn—on signs, screens, even at gas pumps—marketing bombards us with messages designed to highlight what we lack. Our culture pulses with anxious voices targeting our sense of inadequacy, urging us to buy something to fill the void. To resist this pressure feels like sounding alarm bells, warning us that we’re missing out—or worse, falling behind in the race.
Everything the psalmist says aligns with modern research, which warns that our distracted, hurried lives are making us unwell. Weaning, for us, might mean disconnecting from digital distractions or simply letting the workday end in time to share a meal and enjoy a peaceful evening. But doing so requires the trust of a weaned child.
Do we truly know Him as Provider? Do we trust Him as Protector? Do we believe He has our best interests at heart? If so, we will rest. If not, we’ll continue the frantic pace and see where it leads. But for those willing to take Him at His word, we can let the world rush by while we rest—content and satisfied.