For most of my life, I believed the pursuit of comfort and security was a noble goal. I was taught to build a nest egg, climb the ladder, and establish a life so well-fortified that no unexpected storm could shake its foundations. These aren’t bad desires, but I began to notice a subtle and dangerous shift in my own heart. Slowly, without me even realizing it, my pursuit of security had become the source of my security. The comfort I was building had become an idol I worshipped.

I remember reading Jesus's stark and unsettling words to a man who wanted to follow him: "Foxes have dens and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head" (Luke 9:58). This verse struck me, not as a command to be homeless, but as a profound spiritual invitation. I realized that my call as a Christian was to dethrone the idol of comfort in my own life. It was a summons to a life of radical, moment-by-moment trust in God as my sole provider, my only true security, and my ultimate comfort.

My Idol With Many Names

My idol of security doesn’t look like a golden calf. Sometimes it looks like my banking app, which I check obsessively. Sometimes it’s the over-planning of every detail of my life, leaving no room for the Holy Spirit to move. It’s the paralyzing anxiety I feel when life deviates from the script I’ve written for myself.

An idol is anything I turn to for what only God can truly give: ultimate peace, lasting worth, and unwavering security. When my peace of mind rises and falls with my financial portfolio, I have found my idol. When my first instinct in a crisis is to figure it out myself rather than turning to God in prayer, I have revealed where my true faith lies.

The Open Hand: A Mindful Practice

The key to dethroning this idol, I've learned, is not about suddenly rejecting all worldly goods, but about cultivating a profound interior shift. It’s about being so captured by the "treasures in heaven" that I hold the "treasures on earth" with an open hand. To help me do this, I’ve integrated a simple, mindful prayer into my daily routine.

Practice: The Open Hand Meditation

Find a quiet space and sit comfortably. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.
Clench both of your fists tightly. As you squeeze, bring to mind the things you are clinging to for security—your career, your savings, your plans for the future, your reputation. Feel the tension in your hands and arms. Acknowledge that this tension is how your soul feels when it's grasping for control.
Slowly, intentionally, unfurl your fingers until your palms are open and facing up. As you release the tension, consciously offer everything you were clinging to back to God. Picture yourself placing them in His hands.
Sit for a few moments with your hands open. Meditate on this posture of surrender and trust. Your hands are now free to receive what God wants to give you and free to be used in His service. I often end by praying, "Lord, I surrender what I am clutching so that I may receive what You are offering."

From Anxious Thoughts to Trusting Breath

This journey is a moment-by-moment practice. Anxiety about the future can still creep in. In those moments, I turn to a practice that connects my mind, body, and soul: a breath prayer.

Practice: Breath Prayer for Trust

When you feel a wave of anxiety about uncertainty, pause. Close your eyes and focus on the physical sensation of your breath. As you inhale, silently pray a simple phrase, like "Jesus, I trust." As you exhale, complete the prayer: "in You."

(Inhale) Jesus, I trust...
(Exhale) ...in You.

Repeat this for a minute or two. This simple act re-centers my frantic mind, calms my nervous system, and re-orients my heart toward my true source of security. It moves my trust from the shaky ground of my own plans to the solid rock of Christ.

My True Resting Place

The call of Christ is a daily invitation to find my rest not in the stability of the world, but in the unwavering love of the Father. My security is not in a place, but in a Person. My comfort is not in my circumstances, but in my Companion, Jesus Christ.

I still have to manage finances and plan for the future, but these practices help me do so with an open hand and a trusting heart. My prayer for myself, and for you, is that we have the courage to dethrone the idol of comfort and find our one, true, and eternal resting place in the heart of God.

You know those moments at work when you’re staring at numbers that just won't add up, and the more you stare, the more a single, stubborn penny throws your whole day off? That was me just last week. I was knee-deep in month end accounting close reconciliation – a process that always feels like a treasure hunt, except the treasure is a perfectly balanced ledger. This particular one, though, was a beast. I had multiple bank statements, dozens of expense reports, and a stack of invoices, all needing to tie out to the penny. I'd run the numbers forwards, backwards, sideways. My eyes were blurry, my head was pounding, and that elusive penny, or sometimes dollars and cents, just wouldn't magically appear or disappear to bring everything into alignment. I was cycling through the same reports, getting more frustrated by the minute, ready to declare accounting an ancient form of torture.

I finally decided to just… walk away. Not just for the night, but for a whole weekend. I needed a complete mental reset from those spreadsheets. I promised myself I wouldn't even think about debits and credits. And wouldn't you know it? Saturday afternoon, while I was simply out for a walk, enjoying the fresh air, a simple thought popped into my head: "Check the last month's closing balance again, specifically for a single, small adjustment." It was so obvious in hindsight, yet completely invisible when I was forcing the numbers. The solution wasn't in brute-forcing the reconciliation; it was in stepping back and allowing a fresh perspective to emerge. I had found it – a miskeyed transaction from the prior period that was exactly the amount I was off by. The frustration melted away, replaced by a quiet, joyful click.

That little breakthrough, as mundane as it might seem, has been echoing in my mind this week as we approach the Feast of the Ascension. It reminds me so powerfully of the ending of Luke's Gospel, specifically Luke 24:46-53, where Jesus’s earthly ministry culminates in His departure.

Think about the disciples in that moment. They had walked with Jesus, seen His miracles, heard His teachings, and just witnessed His resurrection. Their world had been completely turned upside down, then right-side up, and then sideways again! And now, He’s telling them He’s leaving. Imagine that mix of confusion, perhaps a touch of fear, but also, as Luke tells us, "great joy." It’s like being handed the keys to a vital, world-changing organization, with the overwhelming task of "balancing the books" of humanity's redemption, just after your visionary Founder steps away.

Let's look at what Jesus shares with them before He ascends:

"He told them, 'This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.' When he had led them out to the vicinity of Bethany, he lifted up his hands and blessed them.1 And while he was blessing them, he left them and was taken up into heaven. Then they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God."

When I read this, I see so much that speaks to our modern human condition, that sense of overwhelm, the need for new vision, and the promise of strength, even when our own calculations fall short.

First, Jesus begins by explaining that His suffering, death, and resurrection were not random events. They were "what is written," the fulfillment of God's ancient promises. For the disciples, this provided context, a framework for understanding the seemingly chaotic events they’d just witnessed. In our own lives, when we’re feeling lost or overwhelmed by a problem that just won't yield, like a reconciliation that won't balance, it's a powerful reminder that there is a larger, divine narrative at play. Even our struggles, our "impossible" tasks, can be part of a greater purpose, leading to renewal and growth if we allow ourselves to see beyond the immediate obstacle. Just as my reconciliation needed a different perspective, our lives often need alignment with God’s overarching will.

Then, Jesus entrusts them with an incredible mission, telling them, "You are witnesses of these things," and that the message of repentance and forgiveness should be "preached in his name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." He's commissioning them, making them part of something monumental – not just balancing human accounts, but bringing about true reconciliation with God. This isn't just about their problems; it's about their role in God’s solution for the world. We, too, are witnesses. Not necessarily to the historical events of the resurrection, but to the transformative power of Christ in our own lives and in the small corners of the world we inhabit. How often do we get so bogged down in our daily grind, staring at our own ledgers of life, that we forget to see the impact we can have, the small acts of grace or kindness that point to something greater? Being mindful means actively looking for these moments and acknowledging their divine source, realizing our part in the larger story of God’s plan.

Perhaps the most striking part of the passage, especially in light of my recent accounting dilemma, is when Jesus says, "I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." And then, "he left them and was taken up into heaven." This wasn’t an abandonment, but a moment of transition and empowerment. He had to depart so that the "power from on high"—the Holy Spirit—could come. Sometimes in our lives, whether it's a complex accounting problem or a deeply personal struggle, we have to let go of our own limited understanding, our frantic attempts to control every decimal point. We have to step back and create space for God’s transformative grace. It's often in our moments of surrender, when we stop forcing the solution, that we are "clothed with power" we never knew we had, and the Holy Spirit reveals the way forward. It's like clearing out the clutter in your mental ledger so the divine insight can finally balance the books.

And what was the disciples’ response? They "worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy. And they stayed continually at the temple, praising God." Think about that. Their leader had just ascended, leaving them with an immense mission. Yet, they were filled with profound, spiritual joy and praise. This isn't superficial happiness; it's a deep contentment rooted in faith, understanding, and the anticipation of God’s promise. In a world full of anxiety, tight deadlines, and constant demands to be perfectly "balanced," finding moments to pause, to be grateful, and to praise God—even when the future feels uncertain or our own accounts don't quite square—is a deeply mindful and liberating act. It anchors us in a hope that transcends our daily frustrations and the endless pursuit of perfection.

The Ascension reminds us that our faith isn't about clinging to what was, or frantically balancing every aspect of life with just our own limited strength. It's about trusting in God’s larger plan, embracing the divine empowerment that comes when we step back, and living with a joy that’s rooted in His constant presence. Just as I had to let go of my frustration to find that elegant solution for my reconciliation, we too are called to let go of our grip on life, trusting that in His apparent departure, Christ has given us everything we need to live lives of purpose, profound hope, and surprising peace.

What "unbalanced accounts" are you wrestling with right now, where stepping back might be the key to seeing God’s hand at work? Share your thoughts in the comments below – I'd love to hear from you.