Do Christians Actually Need Daily Quiet Time?

Do Christians Actually Need Daily Quiet Time?

Let me start with a confession: I tried to become a millionaire at QuickTrip this morning. Not through some elaborate business scheme or scratch-off lottery tickets, but through the tried-and-true method of spilling scalding coffee on my crotch and suing for damages.

Turns out QuickTrip has gotten smart about their McDonald's-style hot coffee lawsuits. They've apparently just turned down the temperature so when their coffee inevitably shoots out of the spout directly into your lap, you don't actually get burned. Smart business move. Terrible for my get-rich-quick scheme.

This minor disappointment happened on my way to grab coffee because I'd run out of espresso at home. My wife and I have this auto-ship thing for coffee, but we're always pushing it back because we think we're not drinking it fast enough. Classic overestimation of our own self-control. It's like when you buy a gym membership in January and then push back your first workout until February... then March... then next January.

But here's the thing – even without coffee, even after failing at accidental lawsuit fortune, I still had to face the day. And that meant confronting a question that's been bouncing around Christian circles for decades: Do I really need to do a daily quiet time?

The Quiet Time Identity Crisis

First, let's establish what we're talking about here. A quiet time, for the uninitiated, is that sacred Christian ritual where you're supposed to read your Bible, pray, journal, and sit in contemplative silence while God presumably downloads wisdom directly into your brain like some kind of spiritual Wi-Fi connection.

It's the Christian equivalent of kale smoothies – everyone knows they should be doing it, most people aren't, and the ones who are won't stop talking about it.

I've been doing a version of this for seven and a half years now, thanks to a men's group from church. We dissolved the group six months ago, but for seven straight years, we'd message each other every morning with a simple "done" after completing whatever Bible study we were working through. Usually five to ten-minute lessons – we're not talking about seminary-level theological deep dives here.

But here's where it gets weird: I've been doing my quiet time in the bathroom. On the toilet, specifically. I used to use an actual paper Bible, but then I realized that was probably disgusting, so now I just use my phone and a Bible app. Not sponsored, by the way, though if Life Church wants to cut me a check for the endorsement, I'm available.

This bathroom setup has worked for me because it's consistent. I wake up, I go to the bathroom, I read. It's part of my morning routine like brushing my teeth or wondering why I stayed up so late watching YouTube videos about conspiracy theories involving birds (different story for another time).

But lately, I've been wondering: Am I doing this because it's genuinely helping my spiritual life, or am I just checking a box? Is this relationship-building with God, or is it just ritual at this point?

The Pride Problem

Here's the uncomfortable truth: A lot of my quiet time motivation comes from pride. For seven years, I couldn't let the men's group down by not texting "done." Even now, months after the group dissolved, I still feel this compulsion to maintain the streak. It's like those people who refuse to break their Wordle streak even though they've stopped enjoying the game.

There's also the modeling aspect. We're told as Christians that we should be examples to others, especially to our families. Our pastor makes sure to do his quiet time in a visible place so his family can see him prioritizing God. Meanwhile, I'm in the bathroom with my phone. Not exactly the inspiring spiritual leadership moment you'd see on a church brochure.

My wife knows I do it, but my daughter doesn't. Though to be fair, explaining to a kid that