The Unhurried Life

I'm in a hurry to get things done

I rush and rush until life's no fun

All I really got to do is live and die

But I'm in a hurry and don't know why. 

 

—Alabama

 

Philosopher Dallas Willard was asked to describe Jesus. "Unhurried," was his laconic reply.

 

Jesus had an infinite job to do and only 3 1/2 years to do it and yet his pace was always measured and slow. He was never in a hurry because he relied solely on his Father to get his work done. 

 

Our harried pace is a measure of our self-reliance. There are important things to be done and we must do them. Tempus fugit! We don't have a moment to waste.

 

Someone once pointed out to me that there's essential difference between our presence on a bus bench and on a park bench. When we sit on a bus bench we fidget and fret and shuffle our feet; we recheck the schedule, glance at our watches and hope our stay will be as brief as possible so we can get on with our lives. 

 

When we're sitting on a park bench we’re just there—relaxed, watching children at play, catching the rays, smelling the flowers, listening to the birds, looking at the clouds—in the moment. We have no other place to go and nothing else to do. This is the unhurried life.

 

You and I can be park bench people—laying aside our activity —if we know that God is always at work. Over and over we must make the difficult but essential choice to be at rest, to be quiet, to wait, to do nothing and let God get on with his business. 

 

We rise and shine and hit the floor running, eager to get started at the break of day. The Hebrew calendar day began in the evening, for nothing essential stops while we rest. Israel’s poet wrote, 

 

"It is in vain that you rise up early

and go late to rest,

eating the bread of anxious toil;

for [God] gives to his beloved while they sleep" (Psalms 127:2).

 

David Roper

10.20.20