April 2025

Introduction: Wrestling with Two Worlds

When I first discovered Stoicism, it was like finding a steady hand to guide me through chaos. Greek philosophy showed me how to build strength through hardship, how to steady my emotions, and how to navigate the messiness of life with grace and control. Years later, when I became a Christian, I found myself asking an unexpected question: Can a Stoic also be a Christian?

That question stayed with me for a long time. It wasn’t just philosophical—it was personal. I’d leaned so heavily on Stoicism during challenging times. Did embracing Christianity mean I had to abandon the tools that had carried me through? What I eventually discovered was a nuanced answer: there’s more harmony than contradiction between the two. In fact, some of the values and lessons from Stoicism still help shape how I live out my faith today.

Shared Ground: Virtue, Discipline, and Meaning

Stoicism and Christianity might come from different eras and cultures, but they share some striking common ground. Both call for a life rooted in virtue—wisdom, courage, self-control, and justice. These aren’t just buzzwords in either system; they’re foundational. Whether it’s the Stoic striving for inner peace through virtue or the Christian pursuing holiness by the fruit of the Spirit, the goal is integrity and ethical living.

Both paths also emphasize the value of discipline. Stoicism calls for mastery of the mind and emotions. Christianity echoes that, reminding believers to be sober-minded, to avoid being ruled by the flesh, and to exhibit self-control. I’ve found practices like journaling, fasting, and voluntary simplicity—used in both traditions—help me become more present, more grounded, and more thoughtful in how I live.

And perhaps most importantly, both Stoicism and Christianity recognize that life isn’t easy. Stoicism says, “Life is hard—be strong.” Christianity says, “Life is hard—but God is with you.” That shared understanding of suffering builds a bridge. Stoicism taught me to endure. Christianity taught me there’s purpose in pain, and I don’t have to face it alone.

The Differences: Emotions, Dependence, and Time

Where the paths begin to part is often in their view of emotions. Stoicism, at its core, emphasizes emotional detachment. It’s about not being ruled by feelings, about achieving a state of calm indifference to whatever life throws your way. In contrast, Christianity embraces emotions—not as rulers, but as real and important parts of being human.

Jesus wept. He rejoiced. He felt compassion and grief. He didn’t suppress His emotions; He expressed them. But what struck me most was that He wasn’t ruled by them. He let emotion inform His actions, not control them. That balance continues to speak deeply to me: feel fully, but don’t be driven by what you feel. That idea bridges the gap.

Another key difference is the focus on self-reliance. Stoicism encourages inner strength and autonomy. Christianity invites surrender and dependence on God. And I’ll admit—this is where I sometimes struggle. When things go wrong, my instinct is to analyze, plan, and fix. I go into Stoic problem-solving mode. But sometimes what’s needed most is prayer, not strategy. I’ve had to relearn what it means to lean on God rather than just myself.

Even the way each views time is distinct. Stoicism sees history as cyclical—life loops through the same patterns again and again. Christianity views time as linear, part of a divine story with a beginning, a purpose, and an end. That perspective changes how I think about hope, progress, and the ultimate meaning of life.

Where It Comes Together: A Life of Quiet Strength

Despite these differences, I’ve found powerful ways these two traditions work together. Stoicism helps me live a measured, intentional life. Christianity fills that life with meaning, love, and grace. One offers tools for navigating daily challenges; the other offers hope for eternity.

When I think of figures like Paul, I see someone who understood both worlds. He debated Stoic philosophers in Athens, and his letters often carried the tone of self-discipline and restraint. Yet he was also deeply emotional, writing about sorrow, joy, and longing. His faith didn’t eliminate his feelings—it gave them context.

Even in modern times, I’ve seen examples of this balance. People like Admiral James Stockdale, who endured years as a prisoner of war, used both Stoic principles and Christian faith to survive. That combination of calm endurance and divine trust is something I continue to admire—and aim to cultivate myself.

What This Means for My Faith Journey

I used to worry that embracing Christian faith meant I had to discard everything I learned from Stoicism. Now I see it differently. I can hold onto the principles that align with my beliefs—virtue, resilience, self-discipline—and let go of what doesn’t fit. I don’t have to live in conflict. I can extract the truth and wisdom where I find it, while remaining rooted in my relationship with God.

Stoicism gave me clarity when I didn’t know who to trust. Christianity gave me love when I didn’t feel worthy of it. Together, they remind me that strength and grace aren’t mutually exclusive. I can strive to live a virtuous life—but not because I’m earning anything. I do it because I’ve already been loved, already been saved, and I want to live out that gift with intention.

Conclusion: Peace with Passion

The question isn’t just “Can a Christian be a Stoic?” It’s “Can I integrate ancient wisdom into a vibrant, personal faith?” And my answer is yes—with discernment. I don’t follow Stoicism as a belief system. But I value its contributions to character, mindset, and ethical clarity. I don’t reject emotion—I recognize it as a gift. And I don’t rely solely on myself—I’m learning, day by day, to lean more into God’s strength.

We’re not robots. We’re not supposed to suppress everything that makes us human. But neither are we meant to be tossed about by every wave of feeling. Faith gives direction. Philosophy can offer tools. And when used wisely, both can lead to a life marked by calm, conviction, and compassion.

In a world that often feels like it celebrates the loudest, fastest, or most dramatic, moderation can seem like a forgotten virtue. From polarizing opinions on social media to extremes in lifestyle choices, we’re surrounded by a culture that pushes us to choose sides, go all in, or stand out at any cost. But is there strength in the middle? Is the quiet power of balance the key to a healthier, happier life? In this post, we’re exploring one storyteller’s life lesson rooted in Greek and Roman philosophy, personal experience, and faith: that “everything in moderation” is not just a cliché, but a life-altering truth.

Learning from Youth: Greek Mythology and the Seeds of Thought

Jill, the storyteller, begins with her childhood fascination with Greek mythology, sparked by watching Clash of the Titans. That fascination soon expanded into an academic love for classical literature and philosophy. Among the philosophical gems she picked up, one stood out: “All things in moderation”, attributed to Cleobulus, one of the seven sages of Greece.

This simple yet profound idea planted a seed. It offered a lens through which Jill started seeing the world—not in black and white, but in shades of balance and nuance.

Extremes All Around Us

As Jill grew up, her philosophical foundation was challenged by real-world experiences. She noticed how people in her life—family, friends, society at large—often lived at the extremes. Her father struggled with alcoholism and overspending. Others around her held rigid, black-and-white worldviews about race, religion, and morality. Even simple things like driving styles or generosity seemed to lack middle ground.

Whether it was the “good group” vs. the “bad group” or the pendulum swinging between indulgence and denial, she saw how much damage the lack of moderation could cause. It wasn’t just about bad habits—it was about how people saw the world and each other.

The Philosophy of the Middle Path

Greek thinkers had a lot to say about balance. Jill highlights how the Greeks viewed virtue as a middle point between two extremes—cowardice vs. recklessness, arrogance vs. insecurity. The idea wasn’t to suppress passion or ambition, but to master it. It’s not that bravery is bad, but unchecked bravery can lead to disaster. And excessive caution can paralyze us from doing good.

Later, Jill connected this with Stoicism, particularly from Roman philosophers like Seneca and Marcus Aurelius. Their teachings on emotional moderation—avoiding being ruled by anger, grief, or pleasure—resonated deeply with her adult experiences. Emotions are natural, but being swept away by them can cloud judgment and harm relationships.

The Role of Moderation in Everyday Life

Jill’s realization didn’t stay in the realm of theory. She looked inward, noticing her own swings between extremes—whether in food habits, exercise, or even relationships. She saw that being “too loving” without boundaries led to being controlled, and being emotionally detached left her disconnected. Her goal became clear: live a life of balance, where joy, discipline, love, and even spirituality could coexist without one overpowering the other.

This wasn’t about being lukewarm or passive. It was about intentional living—choosing to engage with life thoughtfully rather than reactively.

Bringing It Home: What Moderation Means for Us Today

So, how do we apply these ancient teachings in modern life?

• Work-life balance isn’t just corporate jargon. It’s a reflection of living with moderation—earning a living while still living your life.
• Relationships require balance between giving and protecting yourself. Being all-in without discernment can lead to burnout and regret.
• Health thrives in the middle space. Extreme diets or punishing workout routines can do as much harm as inactivity.
• Beliefs and opinions benefit from nuance. Instead of adopting “us vs. them” mindsets, seek understanding and common ground.

In a culture that rewards extremes, choosing moderation might be the most radical act.

Conclusion: Choose the Middle Way

Jill’s journey, from a curious kid watching mythological heroes to an adult embracing stoic wisdom, reminds us that moderation is more than just a polite suggestion—it’s a powerful way to live. It’s not about denying yourself joy or avoiding emotion, but about finding strength in self-awareness and choosing a path that honors your well-being and the people around you.

So here’s the challenge: find one area in your life where you lean too far one way. Is it work? Food? Emotions? Beliefs? Start there. Look for the middle ground—not as compromise, but as wisdom in action.

Moderation isn’t boring. It’s brave. It’s honest. And it just might be what we need most.

Transcript

Should we live life in extremes or with moderation? That’s what we’re going to talk about today.

Hi, this is Jill from the Northwood. I’m walking through step-by-step lessons I learned—almost just in time. We’re talking about what I learned as a kid, and then we’ll move closer to what I’ve come to understand as an adult.

I saw this movie called Clash of the Titans when I was a kid, and I was sold. I was so into Greek mythology. In fact, my minor in college was classical literature—Greek and Roman literature. I also learned a lot about Mesopotamian history and ancient history in what’s called the “cradle of civilization.”

One of the things I discovered early on was Greek philosophy. As soon as I got past the mythology phase, I was all in for Greek philosophy. Some of the famous concepts stuck with me—like “know thyself,” which encourages self-awareness. But the one that really hit home for me was: all things in moderation. The idea is that everything to excess becomes destructive. This quote came from Cleobulus, one of the Seven Sages of Greece.

He emphasized that extremes can lead to ruin—whether it’s cowardice, recklessness, or even bravery. Greek mythology often portrayed this: characters who were brave but died horrifically due to overconfidence, or those who were too cowardly to help others when needed. That’s when I had my “aha” moment: all things in moderation.

I started looking at the people around me, and nothing seemed moderate. People were either speed demons or driving way too slowly. They were either mean or overly nice. Some were completely lost in alcohol, while others didn’t drink at all.

Looking at my own father’s life, I noticed how much he leaned into extremes—drinking to excess, spending money without control. It was never about finding a middle ground. Ideally, he could have had an occasional drink and been fine, but everything had to be all or nothing. And once alcoholism takes hold, moderation isn’t even an option anymore.

Many family members lived this way. Some saw entire groups of people as either all good or all bad. I remember one relative saying, “I should get the two of you together so that you can each complain about each other.” They were so narrow-sighted, unable to understand the other side. They failed to realize that both sides had good and bad people. That was a real turning point for me.

So many people live in these extremes—overly generous or extremely stingy, wasteful or boastful, overly courageous to the point of stupidity, or too fearful to act. I realized I wanted something else for myself. I wanted to live with moderation instead of arrogance or pride.

Drinking wine in moderation? Okay. Spending money in moderation? Also okay. As long as the big things in life—our relationships, our work, our values—are held in balance.

People often talk about work-life balance. Work is great. So is enjoying time at home. But if those things are out of balance—working too much or avoiding work completely—life starts to crumble. You need to earn a living, yes, but you also need time to rest, connect, and process life.

Moderation, to me, became essential.

Roman philosophy echoes this idea. Think of Seneca or Marcus Aurelius—philosophers who taught about managing emotions, not letting yourself be ruled by anger, grief, or even pleasure. They promoted a kind of emotional steadiness, and that deeply resonated with me.

As I began to understand Greek philosophy, I naturally moved toward Stoicism, which came more from Roman thought. I really liked it. I saw people around me who were emotional wrecks, and others who were emotionally empty. There has to be something in between.

I talked recently about the book Your Erroneous Zones. Part of the lesson there was that we shouldn’t be either too emotional or devoid of emotion. I believe in feeling things—just not letting emotions control my life. Not being overly loving to the point where someone takes over your life, and not being cold or detached either.

Moderation taught me to stay in the middle, to stay grounded, and to work toward balance. The Greeks showed me this. The Stoics reinforced it. And now, as a Christian, I still lean toward stoicism—not in a religious way, but in a way that values character, service, and balance.

I believe we should be good, well-mannered people who help others, pray for them, and care deeply. But I also believe we need to live with balance—not a moderate faith, but a moderate life.

This lesson still matters today. I believe in moderation.

So my challenge to you is this: instead of seeing the world in extremes—us versus them, black or white—try looking for a middle ground. Find one area in your life where you’ve been too extreme. Can you move toward a more moderate, sustainable path?

For me, it’s been food and exercise. I used to eat poorly and never work out. Now I’m trying to enjoy food without overindulging, and exercise regularly without going overboard. I’ve seen people injure themselves from pushing too hard. That middle space—where things are balanced—that’s where I want to live.

Thanks so much for watching this video. If it spoke to you, please leave a comment, subscribe, or share it with a friend. And if you have a topic you’d like me to cover, I’d love to hear it.

Right now, we’re going through a series about life lessons I’ve learned. This one—moderation—I learned back when I was about 11, and it’s stuck with me ever since. It started with Greek philosophy, but it’s shaped every part of my life.

Thanks again, and have a wonderful day.