Press Pause

The sacred rebellion against a frenetic life

By Kevin Taylor

It’s daunting to think about pausing when life is packed with kids, errands, work and responsibilities, but even small moments of stillness can make a difference. In fact, you’re already pausing—you just don’t know you are. You grab the remote and freeze media content in order to take a quick break, to handle something important (or trivial) without missing anything, or rewind to catch what you missed.

Since the 2020 Zoom revolution, we’ve become comfortable with pausing our audio and video to covertly step away from an online audience for a personal break or to shove some yogurt into our mouths when no one can see.

We press pause by shutting the office door for a quick power nap in the middle of the day. We retreat to the bathroom, not because we have to use it for what it was intended, but because we know it’s a safe hideout for a few moments of peace.

Taking the long route somewhere can be a way to press pause—that extra 20 minutes helps us reclaim the day.

There’s a natural pause between every inhale and exhale throughout the day. We don’t even notice this pause, and yet we engage it hundreds of times in a 24-hour period.

The world drives us to keep going, keep working, keep producing. The moment we slow down, guilt moves in, as if to suggest that stillness is a sign of weakness, and rest is something to be earned rather than enjoyed.

But what if we’ve been viewing it all wrong? What if pausing isn’t a disruption, but a doorway into beautiful and godly rebellion?

Composers understand this. Claude Debussy said, “Music is the space between the notes.” The melody isn’t just shaped by the notes played, but by the spaces between them—the rests. They are as much a part of the music as the tune. Those pauses aren’t an absence of music; they’re what gives music texture and meaning.

But unlike a symphonic composition that needs the pause to exist, we often resist the pause. We fill every gap in our schedules, crowd out every moment of silence and our hands constantly hover over the iPhones cradled in our unsnapped holsters. Stillness feels unnatural in a culture that glorifies the frenetic.

When we live without natural pauses, we move from one thing to the next without stopping long enough to ask: “Am I living in harmony with what matters most? Do I even know what matters most? Is my soul thriving?” What often results is a life running on empty, chasing the next hopeful silver bullet that will be the key to life abundant.

FAILING TO PRESS PAUSE

There was a time in my life when I believed I had everything figured out. I thought I was pretty much invincible. Things were going well. I was building my ministry while caring for and leading my wife and three teenage daughters, checking off all the things I thought success—with work, ministry, home life and a walk with Jesus—should look like.

Contrary to conventional wisdom that pastors work one day a week—on Sundays—ministry can be challenging. Resources can be limited, relationships get strained, people want more than you have the capacity to give, the wisdom you’re asked to dish out comes up short. The number of people who call your church “home base” is the number of bosses to whom you are accountable. Isolation increases. Family life can become compromised.

You’re expected to be an expert at everything from counseling and teaching to conflict resolution, fundraising and construction. And it doesn’t hurt if you can make a decent macchiato in your office for guests.

To be fair, ministry has a ton of upside and fulfilling rewards. Nevertheless, it isn’t a job; it’s a calling. For a good 20-plus years, things seemed to be going great—people liked me, the work was headed up and to the right, a promising future, favor with my boss, affirmation from onlookers. On the outside, everything was beautiful—but on the inside, I found myself . . . 

... spiritually exhausted,

... unable to summon the emotional strength to walk through my front door some nights,

... finding it more and more challenging to be driven by joy,

... doing a lot of work for Jesus but failing to do it in the strength of the Holy Spirit.

It was during this season that I reached rock bottom—never dreaming I could dive so headlong into despondency. That kind of thing happened to other people—dysfunctional, defective, wounded people—not me.

On a cold, dreary November afternoon that only encouraged to the surface the sentiments roiling in my spirit, I found myself sitting in my car in the garage, depleted of hope. What was I going to do? What were we going to do? With one push of a button, the garage door lowered behind me, and with the car engine still running, the thought flickered: I wonder how long this takes?

It was fleeting—a whisper, really. I instantly recognized the source of it. The deceiver, my enemy, the prowling lion, the chief of liars, the accuser was baiting me. The thought disappeared in the next instant; nevertheless, it had been there.

I questioned my sanity to find myself at such an explosive place. If my church ever found out these kinds of thoughts were invading my brain even for one moment, what would they say? I knew it was something I could not admit out loud. It wasn’t acceptable for a man of the cloth to be entertaining something like this even for one second. Take every thought captive—think on things that are good—be transformed by the renewing of your mind. I knew the drill.

Everybody needs to find a reason and a way to press pause for the sake of their soul. I stared at the steering wheel, hands gripped at ten and two, tears streaming down my face, and thought, There has to be more to life than this. This isn’t what matters most. Right?

That moment was a wake-up call, sudden and tangible. The most important part of me was sick. So focused on doing good things and living on an upward trajectory that I had forgotten how to be. I was faithful to share the gospel every weekend to a couple of thousand people, but my own soul wasn’t listening. My inner life was screaming for attention, and now my outer life was following suit. That night, I eked out a simple, desperate plea: “God, I can’t do this. I need You. Show me how to hear you. Feel You. See You. Show me how to begin again.”

That journey re-started slowly, one step at a time—some steps so small, I was certain they were imagined. I began carving out short moments of stillness in my day—a minute pause here, a five-minute pause there—to simply, and as purely as I knew how, sit with God for a moment, saying little. Just being aware of Him. I began to journal certain thoughts and prayers, letting the pages hold things I couldn’t bring myself to say to another human.

Gradually, a weight began to lift. My soul began to feel a hint of what “alive” might mean once again. It wasn’t until some years later at a silent prayer retreat that I began to organize my thoughts and heart around truly caring for my own soul in some kind of systematic, yet life-giving way.

I share this part of my story because I know I’m not alone. Everybody has moments, days, seasons of weariness, carrying weights not meant for them. Everybody needs to find a reason and a way to press pause for the sake of their soul.

The beautiful thing is, Jesus showed us how. He recognized the importance of pauses and modeled them—not only everyday, regular pauses but sacred, life-giving ones.

WHAT IS IT?

We use the word “soul” casually in a variety of situations and settings. We have a soul in there somewhere, and yet it continues to be something of an enigma. Who we are is a mystery even to ourselves.

We understand our bodies. They relate to the parts we can see and touch. Created by God from the dust of the ground, your body is your temple—the shell the Spirit of God inhabits. You also have an inner being that’s less understood. The inner you has intrigued humanity for millennia. But it is an integral part of human identity and dignity.

The soul is the life center of human beings. It is the capacity to integrate all the parts into a single whole life. It is the gathering house for your emotions, intellect, will, personality. Your enneagram number and DISC letter are in there somewhere. It encompasses your one-and-only, you-and-only-you identity.

Your soul is what God had in mind when He first thought of you. He wasn’t pondering your height, weight, dimensions, ability to play an instrument, draw, sing or shoot hoops—He was architecting your soul, your imago Dei, the image of God within you, giving you morality, rationality and the capacity for relationship with Him.

He connected your soul to a unique physical existence, and now that soul blesses you with joy and love that starts somewhere deep inside you and shows up on your face and flows out through your hands. It challenges you with sorrow and anguish that lays you low. It endows you with intelligence, wisdom and wit and causes you to laugh at things others think aren’t funny. It is who “you” are.

Lots of people seem to claim the quote, but someone said, “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” That might be a stretch. Perhaps better said: We simply are not people—not humans—without our souls.

The soul is a central theme in the Bible. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus invites us in with words of freedom: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

This invitation has always been at the heart of the Jesus faith—a call for our souls to rest, to trust, to connect with the One who created us. And yet, how often do we pay any attention to that inner call or allow ourselves the space and permission to step away from life’s disorder and let Jesus shepherd our souls?

When our bodies are neglected, we can experience a host of repercussions. But when we neglect our souls, we lose connection to our very purpose. We are separated from relationship with the God who made us, and we drift from alignment with the will of God. Distance from our Creator is widened. The fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23) is diminished, and worry, fear and unrest rush in to fill the vacancy. Temptation becomes more difficult to resist, and the enemy of our soul gains strategic life footholds.

In the Old Testament, the Hebrew word nephesh is often translated “soul.” This term appears more than 750 times and carries a range of meanings: life, self, being.

In Genesis 2:7, we read, “The Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature [nephesh]” (ESV, author addition). Not just a being with a head, torso, legs, arms and pulsing arteries and veins, but someone with a life-giving essence as a gift from God.

In the New Testament, the Greek word psyche is used to describe the soul. In Matthew 16:26, Jesus teaches: “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul [psyche]?” (KJV, author addition)

It is the part of you that connects with God, the One who created you, who is Spirit. It is how we know we are created in His image. He is Spirit. You also have a spirit that connects with God—but your soul is the essence of who you are.

Your inner person via your soul is why you don’t have four legs or dig holes in the ground to live in. It distinguishes you, not only as a created human but as a spiritual being—the genius creation of all God’s work. You have a past, a present and a future. You’re thinking about that future right now.

You live for your long-term dreams, hopes and desires. That’s your soul talking.

The soul is a seat of emotion—David, the psalmist shows us. “Why, my soul, are you downcast? ... Put your hope in God” (Psalm 42:11).

Job echoes it. “Have I not wept for those in trouble? Has not my soul grieved for the poor?” (Job 30:25)

Mary sings it. “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” (Luke 1:46-47). She uses her soul to glorify God and then uses her spirit to celebrate what God has done to save her. Glorifying God is human behavior and responsibility. We express our humanity to God through our souls and magnify His power and presence through our souls.

The soul has an eternal nature. Jacob’s wife, Rachel, gave her newborn son his name “as her soul was departing” (Genesis 35:18, ASV).

Matthew 10 reinforces the forever condition of the soul: “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28).

Before we go any further, you might be saying to yourself, “I agree it’s a great idea to press pause to care for my soul—to take a break. I just can’t find the time. My life is busy. My schedule is crowded. My family demanding. My job consuming.”

I get it. I understand.

Let me encourage you. Soul care is not a luxury meant to be satisfied on the occasional vacation—it’s daily fuel. You can’t afford not to. Pressing pause when you know you don’t have time for it is a grand acknowledgment that God is in control of it all, not you.

If you don’t make time for it, your body and mind will eventually force you to. Taking a pause—even a short one—to care for yourself, bears good fruit. It makes you more loving, more self-aware, more productive in the long run, less prone to burn out physically, mentally, relationally, spiritually. It’s like driving a car without ever stopping for gas. Eventually, you will run out of steam—you will break down.

That’s why caring for our souls is more than just a good idea; it’s a mandate modeled by Jesus Himself.

He got to quiet places to be alone with His Father, talking, listening, praying. Jesus went up on a mountain to pray after multiplying loaves in Mark 6, and He withdrew to the wilderness after being inundated by the crowds in Luke 5.

He practiced Sabbath rest. In Mark 2:27, Jesus reminded His followers that “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,” reinforcing the importance of slowing, not striving.

He set boundaries.

Jesus knew when and how to say no and when to step away. He made time for what mattered most and showed that loving others doesn’t mean exhausting ourselves.

Luke 5:16 tells us Jesus paused often. Often. This wasn’t an act of “me first” or evasion of others; it was an act of necessity. He had to. Needed to.

Think about it. The Son of God needed to pause in order to care for His soul.

How much more should we?

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Kevin Taylor has served in pastoral ministry for 40 years, offering seasoned leadership and a deep passion for spiritual formation. For the past 29 years, he has faithfully ministered at Journey Church in Kenosha, Wisconsin—a multisite church with five campuses—first as worship pastor, then in senior leadership for 19 years. Kevin’s heart is for discipleship and soul care, helping others grow in Christ through practical spiritual rhythms. He and his wife, Joelene, have three daughters, two sons-in-law, and six grandchildren. He holds dual degrees in Bible and music and continues to preach, mentor his team and lead across communities.