Christmas has a way of slowing life down just enough to reveal what has been hiding beneath our momentum. The noise softens, obligations pause, and for a brief moment, many women find themselves face to face with something unexpected, not peace, but discomfort. When the movement stops, guilt often rises, whispering that rest should be earned, that quiet should be productive, and that stillness is somehow irresponsible.
This shows up not only at Christmas, but throughout the year. In August, at the Restoring Her retreat, one of the comments that kept coming up was how women desire silence and rest, but when they actually get it, it feels unsafe. Well, this Christmas season, I wanted to unpack that a little more.
This belief is especially common among women of faith who carry responsibility for others. Mothers, leaders, and builders are often praised for endurance and sacrifice, so over time productivity becomes moralized and exhaustion becomes evidence of faithfulness. Stillness begins to feel suspicious, as though God might only work once we prove ourselves useful.
Yet Christmas tells a radically different story.
God does not enter the world through efficiency or urgency. He arrives through hiddenness, patience, and quiet formation. Nine months pass in silence as Mary carries Christ within her, unseen and uncelebrated. His birth takes place without fanfare, without control, and without haste. If stillness were sinful, the Incarnation would not look like this.
Even the word stillness itself reveals something important. Its roots trace back to Old English stille, meaning calm, quiet, steady, and firmly in place. Stillness was never meant to imply emptiness or inactivity. It meant settled, ordered, and undisturbed. To be still was to be stable enough to receive, to listen, and to allow something new to take shape.
This understanding changes everything.
Stillness is not the absence of action. It is the condition required for formation. It is where the nervous system finds safety, where emotional truth settles, and where identity is strengthened through trust rather than striving. Spiritually, stillness is often where God works most deeply, rearranging what has become rigid and restoring what has been overextended.
Many women feel stuck not because they are failing, but because they refuse to allow this kind of quiet preparation to complete its work. What feels like stagnation is often integration interrupted too soon.
As we look toward 2026, this matters more than any resolution or plan. Clarity does not come before peace. Peace comes first. A steady year cannot be built on a dysregulated body or a fearful heart, and no amount of planning will compensate for inner unrest.
God does not rush His work, and He is not rushing you!! (For those of you thinking it, you're also not behind...you're right on His schedule.)
If you feel drawn toward stillness this Christmas, that desire is not weakness. It is wisdom. If slowing down feels uncomfortable, that discomfort is an invitation, not a failure. It is an opportunity to notice what God may be forming beneath the surface, quietly and faithfully.
Stillness is not sinful. It is often where the truest work begins.
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