The Organic Moments

The most nourishing things in our lives are almost always the most organic—the moments that rise up unmanufactured, unoptimized, uncurated. They meet us where our souls are actually hungry.

Recently, I watched two sunrises. I’m awake early most days, but I rarely make the effort to go and receive this gift from God. Yet standing there in the quiet, watching the horizon blush awake, I felt again the truth that God is always making all things new. These simple, grounding experiences settle deep within us. They restore trust in the divine promises not by argument, but by encounter.

And then there’s the other side of our lives, the part shaped by screens, notifications, and the endless scroll. A recent New York Times piece described the shock of checking daily screen time. The writer thought she’d been on her phone for maybe ninety minutes. It was four hours. Most of us, surveys show, spend five or more hours a day on our phones. Nearly half of adults say they are online “almost constantly.”

Doctors now call this ultraprocessed time, the digital equivalent of junk food. It’s engineered for instant gratification, addictive by design, and it leaves our attention, our breath, and our spirits depleted. We spend 90 percent of our lives indoors. We breathe less often. Our stress rises. Our souls thin out.

And yet, the sunrise asks nothing of us, it simply offers itself.

Today, may we choose even a few minutes of organic time—a walk, a sunrise, a breath, a prayer. Go walk barefoot in the grass. Feel the earth hold you. Be present with your breath and your body, and get curious about what you hear in that quiet place within.

It’s not wrong to look for your next adventure or the next big thing. But what if the tug you feel is actually drawing you back to the simple, the natural, the unprocessed? What if grace is inviting you to cut out some of the ultraprocessed time in your life, not out of guilt, but to make room for what is already growing?

Because something is growing. The seeds God planted in you long ago are still there, waiting for space, waiting for light, waiting for the chance to burst with life.

And the organic moments, the sunrise, the grass under your feet, the breath that slows your heart, are what nourish those seeds into becoming.