These days, I’m finding it increasingly challenging to make it to Wordle or the mini puzzle without being emotionally activated by at least five headlines along the way. I know I am not alone.
Our country is in a precarious political moment. Every headline seems to be filled with the threat of President Donald Trump’s impact and intentions: This acknowledges the far-reaching, ominous, and almost omnipresent force that is our current administration.
I haven’t felt this overwhelmed since I had to shelter in place during the covid-19 pandemic. Yet somehow, it feels different this time. Back then, the foundations of our democratic republic were not threatened with such clear intent — except, of course, for that insurrection on Jan. 6, 2021. But now, the future seems even more perilous and uncertain. And that’s a valid reason to feel overwhelmed.
Making people feel overwhelmed is part of the authoritarian playbook. At its core, it is about exercising control over bodies; monitoring movement and expression; and fostering restlessness, worry, and numbness. In these times, prayerful discernment can be one of our tools for tuning in and identifying these powers and systems that theologian Walter Wink described as creating the “suffocating atmosphere of the present.”
Ruth Haley Barton calls discernment a “quality of attentiveness to God.” In this attentive posture we can hold anxiety and overwhelm, learn to accept them, and cultivate an adaptive resilience. Building resilience isn’t just about resistance; it’s also about practicing self-compassion and aligning with the gentle forces within ourselves — forces that don’t mirror the harshness of the external world.
Since January, I’ve been working with a therapist-coach who has been guiding me in my discernment journey. She’s teaching me to be tactical with my anxiety, helping me distinguish my body and brain’s automatic threat responses: Am I more prone to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn? Each of these responses requires different tools and practices for the moment.
I’m learning to “invite” overwhelm, even if it remains an unwelcome guest. It shows up in my imagination as a bloated projection of myself, floating around, feeling disembodied, fed by my worries and ruminations. I breathe. I discern. Then I take action to ground myself against the inner voices that would compound feeling overwhelmed.
I find that engaging with perceptive and wise communities creates places where healing and discernment can happen. For me, sometimes this is a Zoom meeting with like-minded people at the Center for Action and Contemplation. At other times, it’s a meditation led by Christena Cleveland on the Black Madonna’s healing and mothering presence.
In my work coaching organizational leaders, I often land in conversations where discernment and clarity matter most. One that stuck with me was with Ron Werner of Together Lab, a group that helps leaders navigate vocation and collaborative organizing. Ron offered a simple, powerful reminder: “Discernment is the antidote to overwhelm.”
I keep learning that individuals and communities rooted in discernment can accept their circumstances without being swept away by them. When discernment leads us back to gentleness, acceptance, and self-compassion, our nervous systems can settle — even as we stay engaged in the sturdy work of justice.
José Humphreys III is author of Seeing Jesus in East Harlem: What Happens When Churches Show Up and Stay Put and co-author of Ecosystems of Jubilee: Economic Ethics for the Neighborhood (Zondervan, 2023).
Got something to say about what you're reading? We value your feedback!
