Originally published in the February 12, 2008 issue of The Evangel.
Do you ever get the feeling that there are too many traffic lights in Nashville? And have you noticed that when you are in a hurry, the lights are not? Is there a sign on your car that reads, “Feel free to pull in front of me, and then slow down to a speed that safely allows you to compose and send a text message on your cell phone, while stopping (not slowing down) to make that right turn at the corner up ahead?” I’ve checked, the sign isn’t there, but somehow my car is a magnet for drivers who obviously mistake me for a man who has no particular place to go and certainly is in no rush to get there.
And why is it that my computer is always in a deep sleep when I need something accessed quickly? Once it wakes up, why is it that it has to upgrade a security program right then? I’m in a hurry; I’ve got things to do. If I wanted to watch a tiny hour-glass on my computer screen, I would have installed a program to bring such delight on demand!
Not long ago I was visiting a school. Just as my business was over and I was patiently pretending to enjoy the obligatory small talk I was enduring, the Principal’s voice came over the intercom to announce an emergency lock-down. Three hours later, the school was open. Luckily I was able to make a legal escape, but only by the skin of my teeth. I left in a hurry, and raced to my next appointment.
If there is a pattern in my life lately, the common theme seems to be waiting. This is not the kind of waiting I preach about in Advent. This is the door-closed, forced time-out kind of waiting. I feel its un-welcomed invasion in the daily rush I’ve grown accustomed to calling “life.” I don’t like it. The words of an old friend haunt me at times like this. “What is your life trying to tell you?” he would ask in response to such self-centered whining. “Do you think God is trying to get your attention?”
I think He is. Maybe it’s coincidence—but nonetheless, I hear the repeated refrain like a song stuck in my head. Slow down. Wait. Breathe. Don’t move so fast.
I’m a firm believer that if I’m not willing to slow down, God can certainly step in and help me ease into a slower pace. I really don’t want Him to have to do that.
So, let me invite those of you who took the time from your busy life to read this far to join me. This month I am committed to pray more, and do less. I’m talking about the Psalmist’s kind of slowing down, the “be still and know that I am God” kind of pace that, with excellent intentions, is easy to ignore.
With so much to do, and so many opportunities in front of us, it would be terrible to discover that we busied ourselves into oblivion because we skipped the most important thing.
Breathe deeply!
