Eleanor walked into my office, and she was shaking.
By the time she sat down, her breathing was fast and shallow, her face pale. She could hardly get words out between gasps. Her sister had driven her over, hoping that somehow she could find help.
She told me that most mornings began this way. The moment she realized she was awake, her body went into panic, and she started hyperventilating before her feet ever touched the floor. Fear had become her first breath of the day. Some mornings, she couldn’t even walk across the street to get her mail.
That day, I taught her a breathing technique I had learned years earlier as a Marine Scout-Sniper; it is called box breathing. I explained what it does and how it helps interrupt the physical aspects of a panic cycle. As she practiced it, I asked her to quietly repeat a verse from 2 Timothy 1:7:
“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”
That became the starting place of her healing. Not the breathing itself—but what happened as her body slowed enough for her soul to listen.
Why This Matters
Moments like that often raise eyebrows among some biblical counselors. “Breathing exercises?” they ask. “That sounds more psychological than biblical.”
I understand the concern. We never want to smuggle secular techniques into the church simply because they “work.” Every method we use in counseling must serve a biblical methodology rooted in a theology of change that centers on Christ and the sanctifying work of the Spirit. But rejecting every physical practice out of fear of worldliness isn’t discernment; it’s an imbalance.
Why Our Bodies Matter More Than We Think
God created us as embodied souls. He didn’t give us bodies as shells to carry spiritual cargo; He designed us as integrated beings with dust and breath woven together. What we do in our bodies impacts how we think, feel, and respond.
When the psalmist says, “Be still, and know that I am God,” that stillness is both spiritual and physical. The racing heart and shallow breath of panic can drown out the truths we already know. Helping someone slow their breathing isn’t sanctification in itself; it’s a form of stewardship. It’s tending the instrument God made so the soul can better hear His truth.
Common Grace Isn’t Compromise
Common grace reminds us that God’s good design still functions in a fallen world. Even unbelievers can observe truths about how He made our bodies to work. When we understand how regulated breathing can steady a racing heart, we aren’t relying on human wisdom; we are recognizing God’s wisdom written into creation.
In counseling, helping a believer take a slow, deliberate breath, or even pausing to follow a simple pattern for a moment, is not teaching them to trust the body. It guides them to use the body God gave them to quiet the physical chaos, so the heart can return its focus to Him.
We are not trusting the body to save us. We are stewarding the body so it can serve the soul as it listens to Christ.
In our discipleship course Unbound: Growing Ever-Freer in Christ, we teach a simple truth: the body can serve the soul without becoming its master. Even something as ordinary as slow breathing can interrupt runaway fear long enough for the believer to take every thought captive to Christ. The goal isn’t calm for calm’s sake; it’s clarity so that faith can listen and respond to truth.
The Piano and the Pianist
Imagine sitting in a concert hall listening to a symphony orchestra perform Grieg’s Piano Concerto. It’s a beautiful, complex piece—every instrument working in harmony. Then, right in the middle of it, the pianist suddenly begins playing “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” A materialist would rush to examine the piano, assuming something had gone wrong with the instrument. We, on the other hand, would walk up to the pianist and ask, “What’s going on?”
The problem isn’t in the piano. It’s in the one playing it.
The body is like that piano. Its condition determines the quality of the sound—the clarity, the resonance, the way it fills the room. But the piano never decides what music gets played. The pianist does.
Our physical condition can affect the tone of our obedience. Exhaustion, hunger, or tension can make it harder to think clearly and respond in faith. But the body doesn’t dictate faith’s melody. The soul does—the redeemed, Spirit-led person who trusts God and obeys His Word.
When counselors help people care for their bodies through rest, nourishment, or even calm breathing, they are simply helping to tune the instrument so that the music of faith can sound as it ought.
Peace Is Spiritual, but It Happens in a Body
Peace is a fruit of the Spirit, not a trick of physiology. Yet the Spirit produces that peace in a real person, with real muscles, lungs, and adrenaline. When the body is tense and overwhelmed, it can be challenging for the mind to remain focused on God. A brief moment of physical stillness can create space to recall truth, to pray, and to refocus the heart.
It’s not the breathing that grants peace; it’s Christ. But sometimes slowing our breath helps us hear Him again.
That’s not idolatry; that’s stewardship. The danger isn’t in using breathing; it’s in trusting it. If a counselee believes peace comes from a breathing routine, we must correct that thinking. But if a counselee uses breathing to quiet the noise so they can turn to Christ, that’s not compromise; that’s wisdom.
Avoiding Either-Or Thinking
Some counselors treat this issue as if there are only two options: either we reject all physical practices as secular intrusions, or we uncritically embrace everything “therapeutic.” But biblical wisdom walks between those ditches.
Scripture doesn’t command us how to breathe, how to sleep, or how to eat, but it does call us to glorify God in our bodies (1 Corinthians 6:20). The absence of a specific instruction doesn’t imply prohibition. The real question isn’t whether the Bible teaches a technique, but whether using it helps us obey what the Bible already teaches.
When we reject all embodied helps, we risk sliding toward a subtle form of Gnosticism (the idea that only the soul matters). But God made us whole persons. He redeems the whole of us, body and soul, and will one day raise us bodily in glory.
When the Body Serves the Soul
When Elijah was terrified and despairing, God didn’t start with an admonition or a sermon. He provided him with food, water, and rest. Only then did He speak. That wasn’t psychology, it was mercy. God cared for Elijah’s body so his soul could hear the truth.
We follow that same pattern when we encourage proper rest, nourishment, and, yes, breathing. These are not replacements for faith; they are aids to faith. They help the person slow down enough to engage the Word of God with clarity and dependence.
A Better Theology of Calm
The biblical call is not to count ourselves calm but to cast ourselves on Christ. Jesus told His disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in Me.” He didn’t hand them breathing instructions; He handed them Himself.
But the same Savior also took on flesh. He ate, slept, wept, and breathed. The One who gives us peace also created the lungs through which we breathe it out in worship.
Peace doesn’t come from perfect breathing any more than music comes from perfect strings. The peace of Christ comes when the instrument is tuned to the hands of its Maker, when the soul trusts, and the body follows.
“Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.” That’s not just poetic; it is also sound theology. Breath was never meant to save us. But it was meant to serve us as we praise the One who does.
Soli Deo Gloria
This reflection is part of my “Refining the Conversation” series, where I explore how biblical truth restores clarity to the language of counseling and the care of souls.
Words Matter: Refining the Conversation 