Yesterday I got stuck in traffic.
Crawling down Cameron Road, I was trying not to go insane. Fraser Street would have been faster, the toll road even more so.
But I started an experiment two months ago. Taking the slow lane. Not dodging traffic. Picking the grocery line with the most people. And not taking out my phone while I’m waiting.
I am no expert at slow. It’s a struggle, every time.
Because I’m a professional at hurry.
Near the end of 2020, I heard rumours about this new book, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. My brother read it in one sitting. Quotes always popped up on Instagram. So I finally bought a hard copy and read it slow (which is near impossible for me).
Oh, it wasn’t “new” content. John Mark Comer would say it himself. It’s old stuff, very old. Slow down. Take your Sabbath. Repeat. My parents had been telling it to me for years.
But there’s something about a “word in season” (Proverbs 15:23).
It drives you insane.
Then it transforms you.
I started noticing that leaving my dirty dishes in the sink wasn’t because it was “better to wash in a big load”—but because I was in perpetual hurry. Arriving to events frazzled wasn’t a symptom of working at a preschool—but because I was in never-ending rush.
I realised I had succumbed to victim-mindset, yet again. Acting powerless in face of my “all-important schedule”. Forgetting how much power I had to draw boundary lines that protected my sanity—and my heart.
Oh, I am no expert at slow.
But in this little experiment—that I’m not consistent in—I am learning why slow matters so much. Yes, “slow” can be synonymous with laziness, or procrastination (which is usually linked to my perfectionism and pride).
So why take things slow?
“Love takes time; hurry doesn’t have it.” (p. 52)
In all my rush, in all my hurry, I’d forgotten the best love stories take time. They go slow. And if Christianity truly is a grand love story, with the most important command being, love Me—surely it’s okay that relationship goes slow, too.
Those prayer-conversations while you’re stuck in traffic. That gratitude-to-God you have in the slow lane, because you’re finally seeing those gorgeous hills in the distance. The present-ness you feel in a supermarket because you’re actually looking up.
There was a song I used to listen to in high school on repeat. It wasn’t recorded—usually tucked into Laura Hackett Park’s IHOP sets online.
The days that love began to grow,
The days that fears began to fade
Those are the days that I’d never trade:
The time it took to fall in love with You
I know—slow can drive us a little crazy.
But oh, you know it’s worth it.
Love’s always worth it.