First published on Passion for Evangelism. If you'd like an evangelistic version of this article to share with a friend, then check that out here.

Hygge. Wintering. #slowliving. These gentle trends invite us to settle into the season rather than resist it. After the bright, breathless rush of Christmas, in the frozen heart of midwinter, with digital noise pressing in from every direction, the pull towards softness and stillness feels irresistible. For alongsiders there’s a deeper question beneath the organic knitwear: What kind of rest actually restores the soul?

Curating comfort

As I write, I’m wrapped in a hoodie, an ‘oodie’ and a blanket. A lamp and fairy lights cast a warm glow across this little nook. My latte smells faintly of gingerbread. It’s almost Instagrammable. And yet I have a nagging feeling that something’s missing… a scented candle, perhaps. A Netflix fireplace?

A coffee-shop playlist hums through my earbuds, punctuated by pings from WhatsApp, Teams, and Outlook. Even as I try to create calm, the world keeps tapping me on the shoulder.

A decade ago, publishers rushed to introduce the UK to hygge (pronounced ‘hyoo-guh’), a Danish philosophy of comfort. It resonated with our longing for self-care, Pinterest-worthy homes and a break from Brexit discussions. It was shortlisted for our Word of the Year and entered the Oxford English Dictionary as:

‘A quality of cosiness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or wellbeing.’

I discovered hygge during lockdown, when a ‘cosy minimalism’ podcast inspired a major decluttering mission (before homeschool scuppered every attempt to do anything). I wanted a peaceful haven for my family – one which no longer yelled a ‘silent todo list’ at me.

When stillness isn’t peace

Hygge has had a resurgence over the past year, perhaps as a quiet rebellion against digital overload and loneliness. Many of us long for a sense of safety – a sanctuary for the nervous system. We crave a place where we can exhale. 

Yet when I slow down, unplug and try to be still, I often find a surprising restlessness. The cosy spaces I create — along with the digital distractions I reach for — feel like blankets that cover, hide, protect.

In the UK, hygge is usually personal, curated at home and shown off on social media. If I’m trying to help someone else grow in their faith, what am I inviting them into? A staged lifestyle? A feeling? A momentary escape?

The social soul of hygge

Whilst the British flavour of hygge unintentionally isolates, the original Danish idea is fundamentally social. It’s a feeling of belonging, of being safe and at ease in each other’s company. It’s about unpretentious meals and unhurried conversation. It’s a call to be together, not perfect. 

That longing resonates with the alongsider vision we share. Hebrews 10:19-25 draws back the curtain on a house with an even warmer welcome. Here’s The Message’s paraphrase:

‘So, friends, we can now – without hesitation – walk right up to God, into ‘the Holy Place.’ Jesus has cleared the way by the blood of his sacrifice… So let’s do  it – full of belief, confident that we’re presentable inside and out. Let’s keep a firm grip on the promises that keep us going… Let’s see how inventive we can be in encouraging love and helping out, not avoiding worshiping together as some do but spurring each other on.’

The home design in Hebrews 10 is beyond cosy. It’s holy. It’s transformational. It’s the kind of warmth that doesn’t depend on clutching a hot coffee, covering up our messy hearts or retreating from the world. Instead we are held together by God’s promises. We can draw near to him and to others because he has drawn near to us and we are eternally safe with him.

How God fills his home

An early translation of Genesis 1:2 (the Septuagint) describes our world’s starting point as ‘unsightly and unfurnished’. Revelation 21:3 reveals the home God always had in mind: ‘Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them’ (ESV).

God dwells among us. As alongsiders, we walk with people who are longing for the rest, connection and peace that Danish hygge points us towards. We cannot share what we do not have, so let’s spur each other on to keep coming to Jesus, who is always inviting us: ‘Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest’ (Matthew 11:28 ESV).

This is the rest that steadies the heart, quiets the inner noise and anchors our identity. And it’s the rest we get to invite others into – not through perfection but through presence, not by retreating but by returning to him together.

Returning to one thing for 2026

As winter lingers and new year’s resolutions fade, Psalm 27:4 gives us a simple focus:

‘One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.’ (NIV)

True warmth isn’t found in escaping the overwhelm, but in drawing near to God and to the people he calls ‘home’.

Perhaps the comfort I’m longing to experience and share isn’t something I can manufacture, but something I can only receive. And perhaps disciple-making begins there too: in returning to Christ, resting in his presence, and then helping others find their way into that same holy, healing warmth.