Quiet Fire Devotional | Just Trying to Keep Up

Herbert Berkley
Sep 5
5 min read

Updated: Sep 6

Just Trying to Keep Up

The Speed That Breaks Us

Everywhere you look, people are out of breath. Phones buzz with constant updates. Deadlines overlap until calendars blur into blocks of panic. News cycles turn faster than we can process them, and the next version of software, phone, or policy arrives before we’ve even mastered the last one.

Listen long enough in conversation, and you’ll hear the confession slip out: “I’m just trying to keep up.”

That phrase feels honest, even humble. But it is also a symptom of exhaustion. It signals that the pace is not set by you, but by someone—or something—else. When the culture dictates speed, and all you can do is try not to fall behind, you are already enslaved.

The irony is that striving to keep up never satisfies. Like chasing smoke, the faster you run, the more hollow the finish line feels. Every accomplishment is already outdated by the time you reach it. The inbox fills again. The applause fades. The next hill rises, steeper than the last.

The ancients told a story about this futility. Sisyphus, condemned by the gods, was doomed to roll a boulder up a hill, only to watch it tumble back down again. Then he would start again—forever. His punishment was endless striving without fulfillment. And though we read it as myth, our world quietly reenacts it every day. We push and push, yet the stone of striving never stays at the summit.

Striving Without Rest

Modern culture baptizes busyness as virtue. To be hurried is to be important; to be exhausted is to be valuable. We signal our worth by how much we juggle, how little we sleep, how many plates we keep spinning.

But beneath the bragging rights lies despair. We know deep down that no matter how hard we try, the world will not slow down for us. The treadmill only accelerates. The inbox only fills again. The applause only fades faster.

Solomon named this cycle plainly: “Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2). He too saw the endless climb toward satisfaction collapse into

emptiness.

Paul captured it with an image: “so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine” (Ephesians 4:14). Though he spoke of false teaching, the picture of being swept about applies to our restless age. We are tossed like driftwood on a stormy sea of trends, opinions, updates, and expectations. Each new wave demands our balance, and we lose sight of the horizon.

This is not merely tiring. It is dangerous. A life defined by trying to keep up will eventually collapse into disorientation and despair. Like Sisyphus, we roll the boulder, but the weight is never lifted.

The Gospel’s Interruption

But then, into that frenzy, another voice breaks through. “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

Do you hear the difference? The world says, “Keep up.” Jesus says, “Come.” The world demands, “Run harder.” Jesus invites, “Rest.”

The culture sets a treadmill you can never win. The Gospel hands you a yoke that is lighter: “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me… For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matthew 11:29–30).

Christ does not accelerate you; He anchors you. He doesn’t demand performance; He offers presence.

The paradox is striking: true life is not about keeping pace with the changing world, but keeping step with the unchanging Spirit: “If we live by the Spirit, let us also keep in step with the Spirit” (Galatians 5:25).

A Different Way to Walk

To “keep up” with culture is to be enslaved by it. To keep step with the Spirit is to be freed.

The world measures your worth by relevance, speed, and productivity. Christ measures it by faith and obedience. The world urges you to sprint endlessly toward temporary applause. Christ urges you to walk daily in eternal love.

Think of Jesus’ words in John 15:5: “I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit.”

Abiding is not laziness—it is life itself. The branch does not strive to keep up with the vine. It simply stays connected. And in that connection, fruit grows—not through frantic activity, but through steady dependence.

Sisyphus strained endlessly and produced nothing but sweat and despair. The believer abides and produces fruit that will remain (John 15:16). That is the contrast of the Gospel.

Practicing Rest in a World of Hurry

How do we live this? It requires a countercultural rhythm.

Pause Before You Scroll Every time you reach for your phone, pause and pray: “Lord, what am I actually looking for?” That small act redirects hunger from distraction to Christ.
Refuse False Urgency
Not every red notification is worthy of your peace. Jesus never rushed, though the needs around Him were endless. To walk with Him is to refuse the tyranny of the urgent.
Anchor Your Day in Christ Scripture in the morning, reflection in the evening. These bookends of stillness remind you who sets the pace—not algorithms, not bosses, not cultural trends, but the living God.
Walk, Don’t Run Literally and spiritually. Slow down enough to notice God’s hand in ordinary places: the laughter of your child, the sunlight on your desk, the quiet conviction in your heart. These are sounds of His nearness.
Say No as Worship
When you decline an invitation or refuse an added burden for the sake of spiritual health, you are not failing—you are obeying. You are declaring that God defines your worth, not how many people you please.

This is not about rules but about reorientation. You are not called to chase the world—you are called to walk with God.

The Hollow Finish Line

The tragedy of trying to keep up is not only exhaustion but emptiness. Imagine crossing a finish line after months of training—only to discover the ribbon is an illusion, the crowd has gone home, and nothing waits but silence. That is the hollow finish line of cultural striving. It promises significance but delivers disappointment. Each achievement, each possession, each new identity upgrade turns to vapor the moment you grasp it.

But the Gospel offers a different race: “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it” (1 Corinthians 9:24).

This is not the sprint of survival but the steady course toward eternity. The finish line is real, the prize is imperishable, and Christ Himself is waiting there—not to scold you, but to crown you with life (James 1:12).

Closing Charge

You don’t have to keep up. That is the lie. The world may speed up, but Christ does not change.

His pace is steady, His promises sure, His presence near.

When the pressure to keep up crushes you, picture this: Jesus is not at the finish line with arms crossed in disappointment. He is beside you right now, speaking: “Come to Me.”

And when you do, you will find something astonishing. You are no longer breathless behind the world. You are walking freely with the Lord of time itself.