“Slowing is one way to overcome inner hurriedness and addiction to busyness. Through slowing, the sacrament of the present moment is tasted to the full.”
–Adele Calhoun

We talked last week about our three-mile-an-hour God who walks with us at the speed of love. As we start the seasons of summer and regular time, let’s consider the spiritual practice of slowing. I know that simply changing the calendar doesn’t automatically mean we have more space in our schedules or diminished demands on our time. But I also know that if we don’t intentionally purpose to slow down from time to time, it will never happen.

Our culture reverences high productivity. That tends to create people always in a rush, moving from producing one thing to producing the next thing. Even good things can become something we have to hurry to do, just so we can get on to the next good thing. But hurry causes us to rush from the past into the future with no awareness of the present moment, and the present moment is the only place God can meet us, because that is the only place we ever actually are. So what might a spiritual practice of slowing look like?

Slowing might look like choosing to drive in the slow lane for a week, or getting in the longest line at the grocery store. It might look like putting your fork down between each bite. It might mean taking a breath and looking the barista or waiter or clerk in the eye and giving them a smile, and, if you’re brave enough, inviting them to pause a moment and take a breath with you.

As with any practice, we never do it just to do it: we do it with intention to notice God and others. Slowing opens our eyes to our own need for God’s grace as well as to the needs of those around us that we can easily overlook when we’re in a hurry. It frees us to be more patient with the Spirit’s steady work within us and others. We become more at ease with the truth that growth and change take time. As we’ve said, God is not in a hurry. Where can you make time to slow down a bit this week? Let’s walk, slowly, together.