How do you know when it’s time to unplug? What do you do to make it happen?
Physically, when I’m exhausted after a long workday, I need to stop working. Mentally, I have to stop thinking about work. I wind down by taking a bath, listening to soft music, and then praying for a restful sleep.
Spiritually, I never need to unplug—because meditating on God’s word day and night makes me like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither. Whatever they do prospers (Psalm 1:2-3).
No unplugging is ever absolute; it’s always linked to another kind of plugging in—recharging my battery before starting a new day.
Plugging in and unplugging is an ongoing process. A life of toil is lived for the sake of children; in old age, we hope to finally rest. But in today’s culture, that hope turns to foam—gratitude has no home. Kindness is not an absolute virtue; favours are hardly reciprocated. Where there is no giving, no hope, no love to hold, the end is sad and cold.
So where is love in the midst of sorrow?
Do we unplug from sorrow?
And what do we replug—love?
What do we do to make it happen?
As for me, communion with God is timeless and fruitful—it leads life into eternity, forever lasting, filled with love, and abundant.
✨✨💖
en yan hua fang 