Basking Like a Coney: Why Christians Need Time in the Son

I think I’ve discovered a new favorite animal, and surprisingly, it’s not a dog. It’s the coney, also known as the rock badger or rock hyrax. Picture a chubby, rabbit-sized creature with short legs, a round body, and a constant expression of “I wasn’t ready for this photo.” Not exactly fierce or intimidating. In fact, the Bible describes it this way: “The conies are but a feeble folk, yet make they their houses in the rocks” (Proverbs 30:26).

“Feeble folk” is a pretty accurate description. Rock hyraxes struggle to regulate their body temperature and rely heavily on their environment to survive. They can’t handle extreme heat or cold for long, so what do they do? They bask. A lot. These little fellows spend long periods lying on warm rocks, soaking up the sun until their body temperature rises enough for them to function properly. Some observations suggest they can spend most of their day resting and sunbathing. Honestly, that sounds like a dream job: professional sunbather.

But here’s the thing, that basking is not laziness; it’s life support. If the coney skips its time in the sun and just dashes about trying to “be productive,” it will quickly run out of energy and be in serious trouble. Without the sun, it simply cannot survive.

Spiritually speaking, we’re not that different.

As Christians, we don’t regulate our “spiritual temperature” very well on our own. Left to ourselves, our hearts grow cold, our joy fades, our patience wears thin, and our courage evaporates faster than a puddle on a July sidewalk. We may be busy serving, helping, ministering, and doing all the things, but if we’re not spending unhurried time basking in the presence of the Son, we’re running on fumes.

Jesus put it bluntly: “I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing” (John 15:5). The coney, in its own way, understands this principle: “Without the sun, I can do nothing.” So it doesn’t apologize for long hours of stillness on the rocks. It’s not ashamed of needing that warmth. It simply accepts its weakness and does what is necessary to live.

We, on the other hand, often feel guilty for sitting still with an open Bible. We think, “I don’t have time for long devotions,” or “I really should pray more, but my to-do list is screaming at me.” We treat time with the Lord like a luxury instead of what it truly is—our lifeline.

The conies don’t pretend to be strong. They don’t build on soft dirt and hope it all works out. They tuck themselves into the rock for safety and stability. For them, the rock is not a decorating choice; it’s survival.

Isn’t that exactly how we should treat Christ? He is our Rock, our refuge, our stability, our hiding place. We are the “feeble folk.” We’re not supposed to be self-sufficient super saints. We’re supposed to be rock-dwellers and Son-baskers.

That means more than a rushed chapter in the Bible and a quick “Lord, help me today” on the way out the door. It means deliberately slowing down to linger, to let His words sink in, to pour out our hearts, and to sit quietly long enough for our chilled souls to actually warm in His presence.

The coney reminds us that weakness is not the problem. Distance is. Being feeble doesn’t disqualify us. It simply proves how desperately we need the Rock and the Son. One good, long basking session with the Lord can do more for our spiritual strength than a whole week of frantic, flesh-powered effort.

So, the next time you’re tempted to feel guilty for taking extra time with your Bible and prayer, picture that silly little rock badger sprawled on a sun-warmed stone. He’s not wasting time. He’s getting what he needs to live.

May we be just as wise and spend much time basking in the Son.