Our Dwelling Place

On habit, refuge, and the God who longs to hold us

We are creatures of habit—but we are also creatures of habitat.
And the two are far more connected than we realize.

The words habit and habitat share the same root: the Latin verb habere, meaning to have, to hold, to possess.

Over time, that root split into two related ideas.

Habit comes from habitus—our disposition, manner of being, what we have come to embody through repetition; what has taken hold of us.
Habitat comes from habitare—to dwell, to live in, to make a home; the place that holds us.

One names what we practice, where our will repeatedly turns.
The other names where we live, where we are meant to thrive.

Habit is internal.
Habitat is external.
But both describe a state of abiding.

What holds us

Long before we think through our choices, our bodies have already learned where to turn for safety. Long before we pray, plan, or decide, something in us is usually already reaching—toward comfort, control, distraction, reassurance, numbing, productivity, approval.

This is why our nervous systems are not neutral. They are shaped by what we repeatedly do and where we repeatedly dwell. When life feels threatening, we don’t stop to think. We return to what we have learned to inhabit.

Neuroscience calls this implicit or procedural memory—the kind of knowing that lives beneath conscious thought, formed through repetition and experience rather than intention or belief. It explains why we reach for safety before we reason, why our bodies respond before our minds catch up, why what we practice becomes what we trust.

Scripture has always spoken to this same reality, though in a different language. The Bible does not imagine formation as something that happens only through ideas or decisions, but through dwelling, walking, abiding, and habitation. In other words, Scripture understands that who we become is shaped by where we repeatedly live—what holds us when we are not thinking, choosing, or trying.

God is not merely someone we believe in; He is meant to be our dwelling place.

“Lord, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.” - Psalm 90:1

“Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” -Psalm 91:1

In other words, our ideal habitat as human beings is not in our habits of self-preservation—in control, productivity, certainty, or self-reliance.

Rather, Scripture is clear that our ideal habitat is refuge in the Lord.
It is abiding with Christ.
It is a life held within the presence of God.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1)

But refuge is not just a theological idea. It is a lived reality. It is where your nervous system settles. Where your breath softens. Where your heart goes when pressure rises.

And when that refuge is not God, something else quietly takes His place.

Refuge Is Not Optional

Every human being lives from refuge.

The question is never if we will seek it, but where.

If we don’t consciously choose to take refuge in God, we will unconsciously choose to resource our sense of safety, belonging, and security elsewhere.

Anxiety, vigilance, striving, or control are not then just habits, but habitats. They are places we return to automatically, even when they exhaust us.

Augustine named this centuries ago…

“You have made us for Yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”
— Confessions

So, when considering where we take refuge, we must consider what we’ve been habitually attuned to getting our sense of safety, identity, and security.

Creatures of habit

Most of us intend to trust God.

We believe the right things. We agree with Scripture. We desire to live a life of faith.

Rarely do we wake up and say with resolve,

Today, I will trust my phone more than God.
Today, I will rest in the shadow of my completed to-do list.
Today, on my bank account rests my salvation and my glory.
Today, this marriage is my strong tower.

But the brain and body are shaped by repetition—by habit—not simply by intention. Which means that what you practice repeatedly under pressure becomes what you reach for automatically.

We find security in:

• staying busy

• controlling outcomes so we don’t have to trust another

• numbing with screens, food, or scrolling

• ruminating over worst-case scenarios so we feel “prepared”

• people-pleasing so we don’t risk disapproval

• productivity so we feel needed

None of these are inherently evil. Many are actually understandable, given our lived experiences. And some even look responsible on the outside.

But over time, they become functional saviors.

Indeed, John Calvin once diagnosed:

“The human heart is a perpetual factory of idols.”

Calvin isn’t merely moralizing here. Rather, he’s naming our tendency to create substitutes for finding refuge in God.

They are the places we run to first.
The things we lean on most.
The habits that hold our sense of safety.

Formation, then, is not merely about changing behavior.
It is about relocating where we live.

Refuge Is Learned Through Repetition

Psalm 91 doesn’t say, “He who intellectually affirms the shelter of the Most High…”

It says,

“He who dwells.”

Dwelling is habitual. Repeated. Practiced.

Refuge is not accessed once and then permanently installed. It is learned the way all habits are learned: through small, repeated returns.

Returning when overwhelmed.
Returning when anxious.
Returning when tempted to grasp control.
Returning when you’d rather scroll, snack, snap, or spiral.

Every return reinforces a pathway.

Brother Lawrence wrote,

“We should establish ourselves in a sense of God’s presence by continually conversing with Him.”

This is not a call to constant spiritual effort, but to gentle reorientation. Not more words, but more returning. Conversation, in this sense, is not performance but presence — a life slowly re-trained to recognize God as the place we live, not just the One we visit. Over time, this continual returning reshapes what our bodies trust, what our hearts expect, and where our souls instinctively go when life presses in.

The Body Always Chooses First

This is why so many mothers say, “I trust God… but my body doesn’t.”

They are not lying. They are describing a gap between belief and habit.

Trust that lives only in the mind has not yet been practiced into the body. This is why embodied habit formation matters spiritually.

When stress hits, your body will choose before your theology speaks.

If your habit is bracing, you will brace.
If your habit is self-reliance, you will strive.
If your habit is numbing, you will numb.
If your habit is controlling, you will grip harder.

Not because you don’t love God.
But because your body has been trained to find refuge somewhere else.

There is no neutral ground.

Again—If you do not intentionally practice turning toward God, you will unintentionally practice turning toward something else.

God does not shame this. He invites us to retrain it.

“Return to Me,” He says.
Again.
And again.
And again.

Refuge Is Not Escape, It Is Orientation

Over time, the places you habitually run to shape the kind of person you are formed into.

Do you go inward and spiral?
Outward and control?
Sideways and distract?

Refuge in productivity slowly trains the soul to stay tense and vigilant.
Refuge in control drains the body with the weight of constant responsibility.
Refuge in distraction dulls our capacity for presence and connection.

Choosing God as refuge does not mean removing stressors or eliminating responsibility.

It means reorienting where you go when stress arises.

This turning is often quiet & frankly unimpressive:

• a breath instead of a snarky comment

• a whispered prayer instead of a mental loop

• a pause before responding

• placing your body in stillness long enough to remember what is true

These are not dramatic spiritual acts. They are slow, formative ones.

God is not asking for a single declaration of faith.
He is inviting us into a changed way of life.

Returning Is Always Available

The good news is this:

Even when we have practiced other refuges for years, God does not withhold Himself until we “do better.”

He remains a very present help.

Every return matters.
Every pause counts.
Every small turning is noticed.

Habits are not broken by shame.
They are reshaped by presence.

And the safest place to learn new habits of refuge is not in perfection, but in grace.

A Gentle Question to Sit With

When pressure rises today, notice where you instinctively go.

Not where you think you should go.
Not where you wish you went.

Where do you actually turn?

That place is revealing something.
And God is not offended by the answer.

He is simply inviting you to return.

Again.
And again.
And again.

Next steps

This is why I created Returning & Rest.

Not as another thing to do, but as a gentle invitation to relearn how to dwell—to practice returning to God as refuge in small, embodied ways that your body can actually follow.

Seven days.
Unhurried.
Non-performative.
Rooted in Scripture, presence, and rest.

If you find yourself longing not just to believe God is your refuge, but to live from Him as refuge, this offering was made for you.

Because you are a creature of habit.
And refuge will always be practiced somewhere.

The invitation is simple:

Return.
And learn to rest.