Movement 4 — Reaching
We’re exploring the messy middle between something that happens to us and what we say in an attempt to make meaning of it. A person can carry unresolved tension for just so long before something in them starts reaching for relief. Not necessarily answers just yet, but something steady enough to hold for a while.
Initially, I don’t always notice it happening. I say “I’m just thinking things through.” I spend a lot of time inside my own head. My mind’s always going; even at bed time when I should be sleeping. Hence, the title of this series: “Midnight Static.” Often in the early morning hours, I’m paying attention. Trying to understand what’s happening within and around me. But underneath it, there’s often something else moving too.
Fatigue
Not physical exhaustion exactly, though that’s usually how I fall asleep at night. It’s more the weariness of carrying something unfinished for too long.
The human mind doesn’t seem wired to hold tension open indefinitely. Eventually, something in us begins leaning toward resolution. That’s not being weak because unresolved things have weight to them.
I notice this especially when the same observations continue repeating themselves. Not the noise. Not the outrage. Honestly, most of that passes by me pretty quickly.
Rather, it’s the patterns underneath that capture my mind. The repetition. The language. The systems beneath the surface quietly shaping how people interpret the world around them.
Every so often, something clicks into place again. It acts like a confirmation of what I’ve been tracking. That’s the part that settles heavily. I can’t say it makes me feel overwhelmed or hopeless, but each new confirmation adds to the cumulative weight I’m already carrying.
Reaching For a Lever
I admit that a quiet discouragement starts forming beneath the surface. I can get a growing sense that change may not come anytime soon. That’s usually when I start reaching for a lever. I don’t always look for conclusions but:
- Sometimes toward reassurance.
- Sometimes toward distraction.
- Sometimes toward prayer.
- Sometimes toward conversation.
- Sometimes simply toward something that helps the room inside my head feel a little less unsettled.
I think that’s why quick explanations can carry power in worrying times. They can help explain things but mostly because at first, they relieve pressure. They help reduce the friction long enough for people to feel steady again.
There are phrases ready-made for moments like this.
- Political slogans.
- Cultural talking points.
- Spiritual clichés polished smooth through repetition.
Short enough to remember and strong enough to carry.
When enough tension builds, these phrases can start to feel more like a pressure relief valve than answers. More like an emotional shelter than an explanation.
That doesn’t necessarily make them false. Honestly, I can see the appeal. Sometimes those phrases really do steady people for a while. For me though, the comfort often feels a little cold and the stability a bit shaky. The tension settles briefly, but never quite disappears.
Slowing Down is Hard to Do
We live life at speed and digital environments teach us to keep up the pace. Much of our world trains us to resolve tension quickly. To stabilize uncertainty as fast as possible. To move from disruption to explanation before the discomfort settles too deeply.
The thing is, Scripture often moves differently. Here’s a key to understanding the Bible that flies in the face of modern Western society:
The Bible rarely resolves things. It doesn’t usually smooth out tension. Instead, it focuses more toward the formation of God’s people to be capable of remaining faithful within unresolved tension.
Ugh! That doesn’t sell well in a fix-it-fast world. I get it. Unresolved tension is tiring.
I previously pointed to a dark little scene early in Book of Job that I can’t quite shake while reflecting on all this.
Curse God and Die!
Job’s wife looks at her suffering husband sitting in the dust and tells him to let go of his integrity, curse God, and die. Whatever else was happening in her thoughts, she sounds like someone reaching for a lever to make the suffering stop.
Her words are harsher than we often allow them to be. She’s not just frustrated. She’s closer to exploding! It’s like unresolved pain had become unbearable enough that even destruction started looking like relief.
Now I can’t relate to the scale of Job’s suffering. Nothing remotely close to that. But I know what it is to sit in the dust for a while. I know what it feels like when accusation stands nearby and unresolved things begin pressing hard for closure. I know what it is to want to force clarity through the static.
- To find a solution.
- To make something happen.
- To arrive somewhere solid enough to stand.
Job refuses.
- Not because he understands what’s happening.
- Not because the suffering suddenly makes sense.
- But because he refuses to seize resolution on human terms.
Later in this wisdom drama, Job will rage on. Complaints will fly. He’ll argue defiantly. But here, at least for the moment, he refuses relational rupture as relief. He holds the tension of trusting God in good times and bad.
In one way or another, many of us are reaching right now.
- Some toward certainty.
- Some toward outrage.
- Some toward distraction.
- Some toward political saviours.
- Some toward theological systems sturdy enough to quiet every question.
I think maybe much of what you’re experiencing is the exhaustion of carrying what refuses to settle.
Worth Repeating
What frustrates me about the Bible is it doesn’t lean toward fixing friction. Most today may seek to “flatten” Scripture to remove what seem like contradictions toward finding certainty. However, the ancients seemed better suited to sit with uncertainty. Reading the Bible through the lens of these ancient examples invites a more resilient, patient, and honest faith.
Perhaps that’s the purpose of Scripture. Not to always eliminate tension, but to form within followers of Christ, the capacity to remain faithful within it.
- Not passive resignation.
- Not pretending hardship doesn’t hurt.
- Not giving up and giving in.
Something deeper than that. A kind of resolve within the unresolved.
I notice how quickly the need for relief can become the beginning of interpretation. Reaching for a lever starts long before we have a handle on what’s going on and before we can give a reasonable explanation. That’s probably why slowing down feels so hard. Because, unresolved tension can almost feel unbearable to those of us taught to settle everything quickly.
So we reach:
- Sometimes with wisdom.
- Sometimes feeling desperate.
- Sometimes without even realizing we’re doing it.