This article takes roughly 4 minutes to read.

A few months ago, the generous YouTube algorithm suggested a sermon by Francis Chan around the teachings of Thessalonians 4:10-12:

"And in fact, you do love all of God’s family throughout Macedonia. Yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more, and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody."

Then by chance, a comment on this post led me to John Mark Comer's "The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry" (which has an epilogue featuring the Thessalonians verse above) that is based on Matthew 11:28-30:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

The thesis of the book suggests it's not just the teachings of Jesus worth emulating but also how Jesus lived his life. Prior to that, I read Cal Newport's "Digital Minimalism" and then started Jenny Odell's "How To Do Nothing" before shifting to Newport's newest "Slow Productivity"

Similar messages from a Pastor, former Pastor, a Computer Science Professor and Author, and an Artist/Educator/Author. Oh, and two of Jesus of Nazareth's Apostles - can't quote them and not mention them. While there are some similarities between Chan and Comer, Newport and Odell, these are all very different people with different experiences all rallying against the current cultural trajectory.

All of these related messages and perspectives helped me begin to understand what my soul had been craving: a pull toward a different pace. A calmer, quieter pace. A pace that cultivates joy and peace, not output and productivity.

I think this pull is the result of my changing relationship with work. I'm learning that it's a very American thing, particularly an Northern / East Coast American thing to wrap much of our identity into our profession. It's been a long, tedious process but I'm finally separating who I am and what I do. I spent the first decade of my professional life unable to do that, leading to a state of never feeling like I was Kenough. The result? The exact opposite experience of what I opened with: a rushed, frantic pace that cultivated stress and anxiety.

Pace. Purpose. Meaning. Thoughtfulness. Intention. Those five words keep circling around my head. "Hurry" is incompatible with each and every one. Something of meaning cannot be hurried. A purpose cannot be rushed. Thoughtfulness requires time and space, as does intention. In all of this, the notion of "take your time" has stood out as a signal among the noise. Obviously, this isn't a new or revolutionary saying. I asked ChatGPT for help tracing its origin:

"The phrase "take your time" has its origins in English and has been used for centuries. It's a simple expression that encourages someone to proceed at their own pace, without rushing or feeling pressured. The exact origin is difficult to pinpoint, as it likely emerged organically over time through everyday language usage. The sentiment behind it is universal, acknowledging that rushing through something may lead to mistakes or overlooking important details while taking one's time allows for thoroughness and careful consideration. Over time, it has become a common and polite way to encourage patience and deliberation in various situations."

• Pace.

• Without rushing or feeling pressured.

• Rushing leads to mistakes, to overlooking.

• Thoroughness, care, consideration.

• Patience and deliberation.

"Has been used for centuries." Have we always felt this hurried? I suspect we have. I mean, Lao Tzu is attributed to saying "Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." Seems like unnecessary commentary if the world around was calm and collected. And this is going back a couple millennia.

So yeah, there's little new or novel here. But like many things, we need a reminder from time to time - something to help us realign to that which our hearts and our souls crave, not what the world suggests that we should. There's something both reassuring and discouraging about knowing many generations before us struggled with this all the same: discouraging because clearly we as a species have done little to remedy the frantic pace of our lives but reassuring me writing this and you reading this means we're alive and well today so clearly something is working in our favor.

Hurrying is an act of powerlessness, an indicator we do not feel in control of our time. When we take our time, we're in control. We're the ones setting the pace. We're choosing the what, when, and how much.

Cover Photo by Chris Thompson on Unsplash

This article takes roughly 4 minutes to read.

A few months ago, the generous YouTube algorithm suggested a sermon by Francis Chan around the teachings of Thessalonians 4:10-12:

"And in fact, you do love all of God’s family throughout Macedonia. Yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more, and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody."

Then by chance, a comment on this post led me to John Mark Comer's "The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry" (which has an epilogue featuring the Thessalonians verse above) that is based on Matthew 11:28-30:

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

The thesis of the book suggests it's not just the teachings of Jesus worth emulating but also how Jesus lived his life. Prior to that, I read Cal Newport's "Digital Minimalism" and then started Jenny Odell's "How To Do Nothing" before shifting to Newport's newest "Slow Productivity"

Similar messages from a Pastor, former Pastor, a Computer Science Professor and Author, and an Artist/Educator/Author. Oh, and two of Jesus of Nazareth's Apostles - can't quote them and not mention them. While there are some similarities between Chan and Comer, Newport and Odell, these are all very different people with different experiences all rallying against the current cultural trajectory.

All of these related messages and perspectives helped me begin to understand what my soul had been craving: a pull toward a different pace. A calmer, quieter pace. A pace that cultivates joy and peace, not output and productivity.

I think this pull is the result of my changing relationship with work. I'm learning that it's a very American thing, particularly an Northern / East Coast American thing to wrap much of our identity into our profession. It's been a long, tedious process but I'm finally separating who I am and what I do. I spent the first decade of my professional life unable to do that, leading to a state of never feeling like I was Kenough. The result? The exact opposite experience of what I opened with: a rushed, frantic pace that cultivated stress and anxiety.

Pace. Purpose. Meaning. Thoughtfulness. Intention. Those five words keep circling around my head. "Hurry" is incompatible with each and every one. Something of meaning cannot be hurried. A purpose cannot be rushed. Thoughtfulness requires time and space, as does intention. In all of this, the notion of "take your time" has stood out as a signal among the noise. Obviously, this isn't a new or revolutionary saying. I asked ChatGPT for help tracing its origin:

"The phrase "take your time" has its origins in English and has been used for centuries. It's a simple expression that encourages someone to proceed at their own pace, without rushing or feeling pressured. The exact origin is difficult to pinpoint, as it likely emerged organically over time through everyday language usage. The sentiment behind it is universal, acknowledging that rushing through something may lead to mistakes or overlooking important details while taking one's time allows for thoroughness and careful consideration. Over time, it has become a common and polite way to encourage patience and deliberation in various situations."

• Pace.

• Without rushing or feeling pressured.

• Rushing leads to mistakes, to overlooking.

• Thoroughness, care, consideration.

• Patience and deliberation.

"Has been used for centuries." Have we always felt this hurried? I suspect we have. I mean, Lao Tzu is attributed to saying "Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." Seems like unnecessary commentary if the world around was calm and collected. And this is going back a couple millennia.

So yeah, there's little new or novel here. But like many things, we need a reminder from time to time - something to help us realign to that which our hearts and our souls crave, not what the world suggests that we should. There's something both reassuring and discouraging about knowing many generations before us struggled with this all the same: discouraging because clearly we as a species have done little to remedy the frantic pace of our lives but reassuring me writing this and you reading this means we're alive and well today so clearly something is working in our favor.

Hurrying is an act of powerlessness, an indicator we do not feel in control of our time. When we take our time, we're in control. We're the ones setting the pace. We're choosing the what, when, and how much.

Cover Photo by Chris Thompson on Unsplash