Manufactured Busyness

“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.” – Luke 5:16

There’s something profound in this verse. Even Christ, with His divine mission and the weight of the world on His shoulders, made time to withdraw from the crowds, the noise, and the relentless demands of life. He understood the importance of solitude — not as an escape but as a space to reconnect with the Father, to ground Himself in the eternal rather than the fleeting.

Reflection on a Culture of Busyness

Reading this verse in my moments of reflection, I often wonder how different my life might have been if I had embraced that same principle earlier. But growing up in the UK, the idea of stepping away from constant busyness was almost unheard of. In fact, busyness felt like a virtue — a performance expected of everyone.

In the UK, being busy is more than just a state of activity — it’s a badge of honor. It’s a constant undercurrent in conversations, a subtle measure of worth that seeps into every aspect of life. To admit to having space in your day, to linger in thought or reflection, is often seen as indulgent, unproductive, or even socially awkward. The question “What have you been up to?” rarely seeks an answer about rest or contemplation; instead, it invites a performance of busyness.

The Impact of Cultural Expectations

I didn’t realize how deeply this cultural obsession with productivity shaped my life until I left the UK over 15 years ago. I now see that if I had stayed immersed in that environment, I may have never come to my Christian faith. Faith requires stillness. It demands moments of quiet where you wrestle with questions that don’t have immediate answers, where your heart and mind can settle into reflection. The UK’s culture, however, rarely allowed for such space.

From a young age, I often found peace in solitude, drawing, and creating. Those moments of quiet expression felt natural and fulfilling. Yet, in the UK, this kind of introspection was seen as unusual, even unacceptable. Creativity for its own sake wasn’t valued as much as participation in the social rituals of nightlife, pubs, or football culture. The pressure to engage in those activities — even as a teenager — was overwhelming. To step away from them, to prefer a sketchpad over a pint, felt like stepping outside of what society considered ‘normal.’

The Struggle for Authentic Connection

Beyond the social pressures of constant activity, I found another obstacle — the need to edit myself in real time whenever I spoke to people. There seemed to be an unspoken rule: conversations had to stay light, revolving around the weather, the latest TV shows, or surface-level gossip. Any deviation into deeper, more philosophical topics was met with discomfort.

I’ve always cared about the bigger questions — things that lie beyond the immediate, fleeting concerns of the day. But in the UK, that often made me feel alienated.

“You think too deeply,” I was told, as if curiosity and reflection were flaws to be corrected. But to me, the strange part was the repetition — the endless cycling through the same small talk, the same unchanging subjects, as though any step outside that rhythm was disruptive. I found it difficult to form genuine connections because I longed for conversations that mattered, discussions that went beyond the weather or weekend plans.

The Cost of Conformity

Spending 24 years in the UK, I observed something else that was deeply unsettling — people masking who they were to fit into the mold of extroversion. I saw countless individuals who clearly were not extroverted, yet they forced themselves into environments that demanded social engagement. It wasn’t about authentic interaction but about creating a veneer of normalcy. The goal wasn’t connection; it was to appear “socially active” by conforming to popular culture’s definition of what that meant — nights out, constant socializing, and superficial conversations.

The saddest part was seeing people suppress their true nature. I could see it in their eyes, in their mannerisms — they were exhausted by the effort to blend in. Yet, there was little room for them to say, “I’d rather read, reflect, or spend time in solitude.” Admitting that you preferred quieter, more fulfilling activities was almost like admitting failure. There was always this unspoken pressure to prove you were living life the ‘right’ way — the way dictated by societal expectations.

The Value of Stillness

But I want to say this to those who feel the weight of this pressure: Your idea of what constitutes a meaningful life is not wrong. In fact, it’s in those moments of quiet reflection, in solitude, that you may come to know Christ and His greatness.

I’ve lived abroad for over 15 years now, and I can tell you that the pursuit of external validation will never lead to fulfillment. True growth and self-discovery happen inwardly, not through forced participation in a culture that denies you the space to be yourself. Whether you are introverted or simply drawn to moments of stillness, that part of you is valuable. It’s often the people who embrace solitude who have the most to offer the world — through their creativity, their thoughtfulness, and the clarity they find in quiet moments.

Encouragement for Those Who Seek Depth

Society needs people like you. People who aren’t afraid to step away from the crowd and stand firm in their desire for something deeper. The world is increasingly loud and distracted, and the individuals who can anchor themselves in truth and reflection will be the ones who shape the future in meaningful ways.

It’s not about gender, orientation, or labels. It’s about who you are as a person. What matters most is the journey you take to know yourself and, ultimately, to know Christ. I can say this because I’ve lived through it — in foreign environments, far removed from the familiar comforts of home.

Finding Peace in the Quiet

So, to those caught in the mist of busyness, feeling pressure to conform — take heart. Your path isn’t the wrong one. The quiet moments you cherish, the stillness you seek, are not weaknesses. They are the very things that will guide you to peace, purpose, and the truth that Christ offers.

In the quiet, you may just find what you’ve been searching for all along.