It’s impossible to count how many decisions we make each day, but it’s fair to say that by lunchtime we’ve already made dozens. What to wear, what to eat, which emails to answer first, how much doom scrolling to do. Small things, mostly. And yet, by mid-afternoon, something feels spent, drained, worn thin. Like a part of us has been sucked out while we tell ourselves it’s mostly ok.
Psychologists call it decision fatigue. Research indicates that the more choices we’re faced with, the worse we get at making them. We choose less wisely, default to what’s easiest, or even avoid deciding altogether. Although we might feel like it’s a character flaw, it’s more of a design limitation — an intentional one. Modern life screams at us to push past it, but doing so can be costly.
Research doesn’t address all aspects of decision fatigue. It notes some physical and emotional impact but omits the spiritual dimension entirely.
When we are constantly choosing — constantly evaluating, comparing, optimizing — we drown out something quieter. The still, small voice that doesn’t compete for airtime. The gentle nudge that requires a certain interior stillness to hear. We don’t stop hearing it because God goes silent, but because we flood every available moment with noise. Unfortunately, noise has a way of winning.
The result is more than exhaustion. It’s a slow drift from the simplicity we were designed for.
God’s design for human life really isn’t complicated. Love him. Love others. Walk humbly. Trust his provision. These instructions aren’t complicated — but they’re very counter-cultural. Because the world we live in profits from overcomplicating the simple, oversimplifying the complex, then selling us solutions to soothe the pain they’ve inflicted. How? By offering more options as the solution to the problem of too many options.
Simplicity, by contrast, is almost always an act of resistance. And simplicity requires that we decide, in advance, what matters — and letting that decision make most of the smaller ones for you. It means building a life ordered around a few deep commitments rather than a thousand surface-level preferences. It requires willingness to disappoint the algorithm in order to tend to something more important.
This might sound like a productivity hack, but it isn’t. It’s closer to the spiritual act of repentance — turning from a wayward path toward a road less traveled. The good news is that the path is always shorter than it feels. Today is enough. One decision, made well, in the right direction.
That’s the invitation extended in each issue of this digest. An invitation, not a system. Not a framework. Just a gentle, recurring reminder that the life you’re looking for is closer than you think — and quieter than the noise around you would ever suggest.
One day wiser. That’s all.
If this resonated, consider sharing it with someone who might need it. And if you’d like to go deeper, The ONDAWI Letter is a monthly print subscription that explores these themes at length — arriving in your mailbox, no screen required. Learn more at ondawi.com.
May today find you one day wiser than yesterday,
and tomorrow one day wiser than today.
Jeff Moon, LMFT — ondawi.com