I’ve been pondering the idea of pace over the past week. In the interest of full disclosure – I do everything fast. No one has EVER in my whole life, told me to speed up. But people tell me to slow down – a. lot. I walk fast. I talk fast. I work fast. I clean up fast. I think fast. And it has taken me several decades to be ok with people who did not quite keep up.
My fast pace is usually not a problem for me. And in fact, it is really helpful in times of crisis – kind of like what we’re in right now. Or when we were working in Ebola in 2014-2015. Or 100 other crises I’ve been privy to over the years. But when my normal pace is fast, then my speeding up to address urgent matters can seem like breakneck speed to those around me. So, I have to consciously make efforts to slow down.
I was reading Wayne Muller’s book “Sabbath” this past week, and he addresses the issue of pace in his chapter called “Doing Good Badly.” He talks about how work that is well-intended can go completely sideways when we don’t take time to pause, and listen, and hear what is happening more deeply. He gives some examples of when good humanitarian efforts were done quickly to solve a known problem, but they inadvertently created an entirely different problem through the solution.
But the analogy that really spoke to me was about a deer.
If you come upon a deer (or a deer comes upon you) while walking in the woods, it is a thing of wonder and delight. You stop, you stand as quietly as possible, you hold your breath – hoping the deer won’t run away.
But if you come upon that same deer going 70 mph down a highway at night, it is an entirely different matter. It is a thing of terror and possible devastation. All of your senses and responses kick in, fueled by a flood of adrenaline. You move fast and decisively trying to slow your speed and swerve around the deer. Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. In either case, there was no delight in the encounter.
Same encounter. Same object. The only difference was the speed with which you came upon it.
That’s it. Your speed.
We’re in the middle of gearing up for relief work in Sierra Leone as COVID-19 begins to wreak its havoc in another part of the world. We have the distinct advantage, and disadvantage, of knowing what is coming, and how we might need to prepare for its arrival. And we know that windows of opportunity to assist are going to close fast when they close.
There is a temptation to rush in and do everything quickly, creating stress, and anxiety, and relational tension (particularly when one culture values speed and efficiency far more than the other). And when lives are at stake, and windows of opportunity are closing, shouldn’t we move fast? That seems reasonable, doesn’t it?
It does. And there is certainly a time for speedy action. But even in speedy and urgent action, it behooves us to check our inner pace.
We can do things quickly on the outside, but over the past couple of years, I have been learning to look inward, and slow the pace of my heart (and mind). There is a paradoxical paradigm that is possible, where we move quickly through the required activities, but our hearts are at rest.
How do we accomplish this?
I think there are several ways to work toward this goal:
– Stopping for an intentional pause, just before entering the fray of the urgent activity. Just a moment, a deep breath, a break in the forward motion can reset the inner pace so that the task is undertaken with more intention and calm.
– When we are in the midst of the activity, we need to keep a meter on our heart – like a dashboard gauge, showing us if we are anxious, over-reacting, spinning up, becoming frenetic, or any other “non-peaceful” emotion. Just noticing these dynamics is the first step to doing something about it.
– Enter the fray with prayer. In seasons, or events, that are particularly stressful or urgent – like a relief effort during a pandemic – a breath prayer can be a lifesaver. Just a phrase that can easily be prayed with your inhalation and exhalation, becoming a habitual connection with the Father. This can be as simple as “Father, be my peace” or “Jesus, still me” or “Lord, I am yours” – simple phrases that express your desire for inner stillness even in the midst of urgent crises.
– Getting others to help. Most crises are dealt with in the company of others. Talk about this desire for inner stillness and a slower heart pace, and give everyone permission to call everyone back to it. We were never meant to grow alone. Our community should help us accomplish healthy soul life.
Those are just a few ideas. I’d love to hear yours as well.