“I don’t know how you do it,” a friend told me. “Church, kids, writing.”
“I don’t sleep,” I said, half-joking. (We have a newborn; it’s only half a joke.)
While moving fast, going quickly, and multitasking may be impressive in a world filled with content-creating and service-providing and like-share-click-tweet, they aren’t good. Running at the speed of light, our hair metaphorically on fire, is the opposite of what the gospel calls us to do. Living at a frantic pace is the opposite of what God calls us to. (Plus, multitasking is counterproductive!)
I’ll admit it—I am a chronic do-too-much-er. I don’t often do just one thing at a time. I cook dinner with a podcast going, drive to work while brainstorming a project idea, sit with kids at the park while catching up on scheduling appointments. (I feel bad for the receptionist at my dentist’s office who is as likely to hear “Be careful on the jungle gym!” as “Yes, April 6 at 2 p.m. works great for us!”)
I wrote a whole book about the importance of slowing down, but I struggle to take my own advice. And here’s the thing: at a frenetic pace, we often miss essentials. People. God. The curve of a toddler’s brow that tells us he needs an early nap. The weary set of our boss’s shoulders that reminds us he’s had a long week and to offer encouragement. The achingly beautiful way the sun is setting, an ephemeral gift to us from an everlasting God.
By going too fast, we miss everything.
A great deal needs doing, to be sure. The world is in chaos, families are in turmoil, our planet is wearing out, communities are in pain. We can be tempted to feel the pressing weight of the entire world on our shoulders and run frantically to do all we can. Who will save us if we don’t keep striving—and quickly?
Read the rest over at The Glorious Table.
Courtney Ellis 
“Who will save us?” Isn’t that the real question behind all the hurrying?
Reading a few biographies lately, I sense a theme and it hurts. Every one of these people is on the go for fifteen to twenty hours a day, seven days a week. Forget sleep. Forget relaxation. Forget vacations. Why does it hurt so much to read these stories? Because of my own limitations. (I’ve got about five hours of energy in any given day. After that, I crash.) But if I can’t follow the example of these fantastic role models no one will understand me, no one will like me, no one will approve of me.
God designed us to be doing and going and exploring and building. And to get much satisfaction and fulfillment from it. The problem, the common thread behind all the biographies, seems to be a fear that no one can earn other people’s love, or God’s love, unless they drive themselves relentlessly. Who will save us if we don’t keep striving?
(Adapted from my blog at https://thosewhoweep.blogspot.com/2019/03/lemmings.html.)
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