The Better Comfort
Why I stopped looking to screens for rest
I used to think of prayer as medicine and Netflix as comfort food.
Medicine is good for you but unpleasant. You take it because you should. Comfort food is what you actually want—warm, easy, satisfying. One is duty; the other is desire.
So prayer was the thing I did in the morning out of discipline, and Netflix was the thing I did at night out of longing. Prayer was for growth; screens were for rest. Prayer was work; entertainment was reward.
I had it exactly backwards.
The Comfort We’re Seeking
What are we actually looking for when we reach for the remote?
We want to feel better. We want the weight of the day to lift. We want our minds to stop racing. We want to be transported somewhere else—somewhere that isn’t this life with its pressures and problems.
We want, in a word, comfort.
And screens deliver something that feels like comfort. They absorb attention. They provide escape. They ask nothing of us. For a few hours, we can stop being ourselves and inhabit someone else’s story.
But here’s what I’ve learned: that’s not comfort. That’s numbing. And there’s a difference.
Numbing vs. Restoration
Numbing makes you feel less. It turns down the volume on your life—the stress, yes, but also the joy, the meaning, the presence. You emerge from a Netflix session not restored but depleted. Not filled but emptier. The weight returns, often heavier than before.
Restoration makes you feel more—more alive, more yourself, more connected to what matters. You emerge from genuine rest not escaped but returned. Not distracted but focused. Ready to re-engage rather than dreading it.
Screens numb. Prayer restores.
I didn’t believe this for years. It sounded like something religious people say to make discipline seem appealing. But I’ve lived both ways now, and I’m telling you: it’s simply true.
What Comfort Actually Feels Like
Real comfort isn’t the absence of reality. It’s the presence of Someone who holds reality together.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” — Matthew 11:28-29
Notice: Jesus doesn’t say “escape to me.” He says “come to me.” Not absence but presence. Not distraction but encounter.
When I bring my tired, frayed, overwhelmed self to God in prayer, something happens that Netflix cannot provide:
- I am known. Not watched, but known.
- I am held. Not entertained, but held.
- I am loved. Not used, but loved.
The comfort of being fully known by the One who made you—there is nothing like it. No algorithm can replicate it. No story can substitute for it.
The Decision
At some point, I made a decision. Not a one-time dramatic choice but a slow, repeated commitment: I will seek my ultimate comfort in God, not in screens.
This didn’t mean never watching anything. It meant changing what I reach for first. It meant recognizing that the deep tiredness of my soul cannot be addressed by entertainment—only by encounter.
When I’m exhausted, I go to God. When I’m overwhelmed, I go to God. When I’m sad, anxious, restless, bored—I go to God.
Not because screens are sinful. But because they cannot give me what I actually need.
What This Looks Like
Practically, this means:
Prayer becomes the default, not the alternative. When the day ends and I’m depleted, my first move is toward silence, not stimulation. Toward presence, not escape.
I sit with God before I sit with screens. Even if I do watch something later, I come to it from rest rather than seeking rest from it.
I name what I’m actually feeling. Instead of numbing the stress or sadness, I bring it to God. “I’m exhausted. I’m anxious. I don’t know how to handle tomorrow.” He can hold what screens can only hide.
I let prayer be unproductive. I’m not trying to accomplish anything. I’m just being with Someone who loves me. That’s enough. That’s more than enough.
The Surprising Result
Here’s what surprised me: when I stopped looking to screens for comfort, I stopped needing them as much.
The desperate craving for escape came from a soul that was running on empty. When I started filling up in prayer, the craving diminished. Not because I became super-spiritual, but because I was actually getting what I needed.
A well-fed soul doesn’t crave junk food.
I still watch things sometimes. But it’s different now. It’s occasional enjoyment, not desperate self-medication. I can take it or leave it because my comfort doesn’t depend on it.
The Invitation
If you’re tired of being tired—if the screens aren’t working anymore, if you feel emptier after every binge, if you suspect there must be something more—there is.
There’s a comfort that doesn’t fade when the credits roll. A rest that actually restores. A presence that knows you fully and loves you completely.
You don’t have to figure out how to pray perfectly. You just have to come.
Tired? Come. Overwhelmed? Come. Empty? Come.
He’s not offering an escape from your life. He’s offering something better: Himself, in the midst of it.
That’s the better comfort. And it’s available right now.