Introduction

“Hi, my name is Dave, and I’m addicted to hurrying.”
As part of my Hurriers Anonymous support group, you respond with the group in unison: “Hi Dave.”

It sounds a little funny, maybe even overdramatic—but the more I reflect on it, the more I believe that’s a real confession I need to make.

Last week, I wrote about the things I consider my top life priorities: faith, family, and friends—with health as a close fourth, not for vanity’s sake, but so I can better enjoy the first three. But here’s the honest truth: I can’t reflect those priorities well if I’m always rushing. You can’t hurry through rich moments with God. You can’t be truly present with your spouse or your kids or your best friend if you’re already mentally onto the next thing. You can’t enjoy God’s creation or the gift of good health if your soul is constantly speeding.

I’ve started reading the book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, by pastor and author John Mark Comer. In it he mentions that his mentor who’s not a mentor, John Ortberg, told him that his mentor, the late Dallas Willard once said to him:

“You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life. Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day.”

Dallas Willard

And then I stumbled on this gem, which kicked me right in the, um, gut (let’s go with that):

“Hurry is not just a disordered schedule. Hurry is a disordered heart.”

John Mark Comer

That one hit home.

Comer builds on this idea by offering this quote from Corrie ten Boom:

“If the devil can’t make you sin, he’ll make you busy.”

Corrie ten Boom

Comer himself then adds:

Because both have the same effect: they cut you off from your connection to God, to others, and even to your own soul.

John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry

All this adds up to a clear point—both sin and busyness can pull us away from what matters most: intimacy with God and connection with those around us.

A Contradiction in Motion

I’m somewhat of a walking contradiction—literally. I don’t get stressed if I’m a couple of minutes late. I try to be present. But my walking pace? It’s naturally fast. I’m always zooming ahead, especially compared to my 90-year-old father-in-law, who walks at a sloth’s pace (to be fair, he is almost 90 years old, although he has always been a slow walker as long as I’ve known him). And though I enjoy his company and try to walk beside him, I usually end up a few steps ahead, waiting and watching. Writing that out now, I realize how that visual kind of sums up this whole confession: I’m trying—but the pull of hurry is strong.

It wasn’t always this way. Or maybe it was, but I’ve had my moments of resistance. Several years back, when I worked in New York City—where “hurry” is a cultural badge of honor—I opted to walk to and from work instead of cramming into the subway or catching a car. I actually took my time in my own way, but still walked at a fairly rapid pace.

On the weekends, I’d often escape to one of the city’s botanic gardens with my camera in hand. My wife and friends would tease me for taking pictures of every flower I passed. But here’s the thing: you can’t hurry a good photograph. You have to slow down. You have to observe. You have to notice—the way the light hits a petal, the shimmer of dew, the angle of the sun. Those small, quiet pauses have sustained me in some of life’s most chaotic seasons. Those walks, and the stillness they brought, restored my soul. I think that’s one reason I love photography so much.

When taking these walks, these verses would often pop into my mind:

He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.

Psalm 23:2-3 (NIV)

My Walks with God

These days, my morning walks are my quiet time with God. I still walk fast—it’s also for fitness—but I listen to Scripture through the Daily Audio Bible podcast. Lately, I’ve also added in the Bible Department podcast and associated Bible reading (listening), sometimes racking up six or more chapters a day. Then comes my prayer time.

Because I have tinnitus (constant ringing in my ears), I typically play praise music while I pray to mask the noise. But if I’m honest, I’ve been getting distracted. My mind wanders. A lyric triggers a thought, which leads to a memory, which leads to a to-do list, and suddenly I’m a million miles away from the presence of God.

Today, though, something strange happened. After my podcast ended, my phone glitched, and the music didn’t play. I was about to fix it—habit, really—but something stopped me. I thought of The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry and Comer’s encouragement to unplug.

So I just hiked up the steep hills. No music. Just the rhythm of my steps, the sound of the wind, the tinnitus (still ringing), and the (very fast!) beat of my heart. For the first time in a while, my prayer time was focused. Clear. Honest. Holy.

Maybe I’m finally on the road to recovery.

Presence Requires Slowness

When I reflect on my career, I can’t help but feel like I’ve often let it crowd out what’s most important. Like many of you, I had to work to support my family. But more often than not, I gave more than the expected 40 hours. I gave my thoughts, my energy, my time—sometimes at the expense of the things I said were my priorities. And now, with retirement on the horizon, I can say it: It wasn’t always worth it.

That’s not to say I regret my work or that work isn’t valuable. But I wish I’d found a better balance. I wish I’d slowed down more. I wish I’d prioritized the people I love and the God I serve the way I meant to. Because real connection—whether with God or with others—requires presence. And presence requires slowness. It requires putting the phone down long enough to engage at the heart level. And not picking it back up until the conversation has run its course.

How often do we do that with God? How often do we do it with our spouse or other loved ones?

Although it took Comer’s book to remind me and teach me some valuable lessons, God Himself has given us similar guidance long before Comer put pen to paper:

Be still, and know that I am God.

Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28 (NIV)

But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.

Luke 5:16 (NIV)

If Jesus—the Savior of the world—made time to “unplug” and slow down, then who am I to think I can do life without rest?

🛐 The Invitation to Slow Down and Rest

In fact, Jesus invites us to join Him. Imagine that you are in a hurry to get somewhere, walking fast so you’re not late. You bump into Jesus. Instead of getting the clue that you’re in a rush and stepping aside, He grins, a twinkle in His eye, making it clear how glad He is to see you. He gently places a hand on your shoulder and says:

“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.”

Jesus, in Matthew 11:28–30 (NIV)

What a beautiful invitation. If you think about the pace of Jesus’s life, He’s giving us an opportunity to slow down. He definitely had busy times, with so many people wanting to hear Him speak and have Him heal them, but He never seemed to be in a hurry. He walked everywhere. He took time to stop and engage with people. He also made no apologies about going off to quiet places to pray, to be at One with His Father, to restore His soul.

If we’re going to yoke ourselves to Him, we’re going to have to let Him set the pace. The yoke, as a farming tool, connected two animals together to harness the power of both of them together. Of course, this approach doesn’t work if the beasts walk at different paces.

Also, when two animals were joined together to share the work, the stronger one carried most of the load while the other simply stayed in step.

So this is how He gives us rest: by forcing us to slow down, by doing most of the work.

He guides us slowly, beside the still waters. He sets a table for us in the middle of the hustle and bustle all around us. He invites us to stay for a while, enjoying a meal and His company. Laughing. Listening to the gentle stream and the birds singing their melodies. Inhaling the scent of fresh cut grass, breathing deep drafts of His peace.

Instead of being driven by stress, performance, or expectations, we can take time to linger in the presence of Someone who loves us more than life itself. Someone who is never distracted by His phone, who makes you feel like the most important person in the world to Him.

Life Led By Grace

That’s the kind of life Jesus invites us into—not one with more to do, but one with less to carry alone. When we walk with Him, we’re not pulled by guilt or driven by fear. We’re led by grace. And that changes everything.

I don’t share any of this to guilt you (or myself). I share it because I want to get better. I want to be more present—with God, with my wife, with my family and friends. I want my soul to breathe again. And I suspect maybe you do too.

So let’s start here:
Hi, my name is Dave, and I’m learning to slow down.

Will you join me?