Being Well

Being Well

When I first began my career in nursing at the age of 17, the word wellbeing wasn’t something I heard very often—if at all. What we had was Occupational Health. It was the place nurses went for vaccinations, latex allergy tests, and not much else—it was all about fixing people and keeping nurses working. Wellbeing wasn’t part of the conversation.

Fast forward to today, and it seems that wellbeing is everywhere. Since the COVID-19 pandemic especially, the term is used widely across workplaces, communities, and churches. But what does it actually mean? What is wellbeing? Perhaps an even deeper question is: What does being well look like?

Within The Salvation Army, many are familiar with the work of Lieutenant-Colonel (Dr) Karen Shakespeare, who speaks of a three-fold experience necessary for officer training and ministry: being, knowing, and doing. In wider Christian thought, The Rev’d Dr Samuel Wells speaks of being with as a central aspect of discipleship and mission—emphasising presence, attention, and partnership with others, rather than simply trying to fix problems.

I believe wellbeing, and most importantly being well, reflects this same truth. It is not just about knowing more, doing more, or solving more. It goes deeper. It embraces the most intimate places of our lives—the space where, in the words of Dallas Willard, “we know it in our knower.”

For me, wellbeing echoes the song by Matt Redman: “When the music fades, all is stripped away, and I simply come.” Being well is the place I arrive when everything else has been stripped away. It is the stillness I find when life feels uncertain, chaotic, or painful. It is the anchor that steadies me, the shalom that quiets my soul.

This truth is reflected in Scripture, even in the reality of brokenness. In Exodus 32:19 we read:

“When Moses approached the camp and saw the calf and the dancing, his anger burned and he threw the tablets out of his hands, breaking them to pieces at the foot of the mountain.”

The broken tablets carry deep symbolism. A commentator writes:

“The symbol of the broken tablets serves as a poignant reminder of our sacred responsibility to be ever-sensitive to those who suffer, embracing those who live with ‘broken tablets’ in their hearts. Moses picked up each precious piece of the tablets, he collects every shard, and he lovingly places every piece in the holy Ark, conveying a message that guides the Jewish heart for all time.”

Brokenness, paradoxically, can lead us into wellbeing. When life strips away all that is temporary, we are reminded of what matters most.

For a long time, I took pride in my professional status, my academic achievements, my titles, and my roles. But through seasons of stripping away and brokenness, I’ve discovered what truly anchors me: God and my family. These are my sources of wellbeing, my deep shalom. Everything else—titles, roles, achievements—can be broken or lost. But God and the love of family endure, and in them, I find wholeness of life.

The world may not understand this. In fact, it makes no sense to most. Yet Scripture reminds us:

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:7 (NIV)

This peace transcends the standards of the world. It is not found in accumulation or achievement. It is discovered in surrender, in being anchored, in the stillness that remains when all else is stripped away. For me, that is what it means to be well. That is where I find my wellbeing.

Perhaps these questions will help you to reflect on what it means for you to be well:

1. What does being well mean for me, beyond achievement or activity?

2. In times of brokenness, what anchors me and gives me peace?

3. How might I live more deeply from the place of God’s shalom, even when life feels uncertain?