Tag Archives: hurry

What if rest came first?

That last post was actually written a week or two ago. I’m now about halfway through Alan Fadling’s An Unhurried Life: Following Jesus’ Rhythms of Work and Rest. So far he’s written about apprenticeship to an unhurried Jesus; our notions of productivity; and being unhurried enough to resist temptation, to care (or pay attention), and to pray.

I’ve just started the chapter entitled “Rest: The Rhythm of Creation” and came across this interesting insight (it begins with a quote from Eugene Peterson):

“The Hebrew evening/morning sequence conditions us to the rhythm of grace. We go to sleep, and God begins his work. As we sleep he develops his covenant. We wake and are called out to participate in God’s creative action. We respond in faith, in work. But always grace is previous. Grace is primary. We wake into a world we didn’t make, into a salvation we didn’t earn. Evening: God begins, without our help, his creative day. Morning: God calls us to enjoy and share and develop the work he initiated. Creation and covenant are sheer grace and there to greet us every morning.

The Hebrew mindset saw the day beginning with rest, not with work. In the West, our day begins at sunrise and, basically, with work. This sequence, as Peterson points out, is telling. We tend to see rest as the place we fall into after we’ve worn ourselves out with work. But what if our best work begins from a place of rest? What if rest takes first priority rather than the last?” (110)

What if indeed? Rest in our culture is often seen as weakness, as laziness, and Christians are often no different. But perhaps this is another place where Christians are called to live in a way counter to the culture, to live, as it were, prophetically.

Unhurried time

I just started reading a book called An Unhurried Life: Following Jesus’ Rhythms of Work and Rest, which was given to me in my registration packet at Midwinter (denominational pastors’ conference) this year. I’ve only read the first chapter, but it promises to be a good read.

I tend to think of myself of as a generally relaxed person, but this line stuck out to me: “I feel hurried inside even when nothing actually urgent is on my schedule… Even when nothing outward is pressuring me to pick up the pace, I feel an internal impulse to get to some ill-defined ‘next thing’ that needs my attention” (10). I would have put these feelings down as “anxiety” related to other things, and perhaps they partly are that as well, but there is a sense of strong hurriedness and vague urgency in me these days.

The basic argument of the book is that Jesus led an unhurried life and that his followers should do the same. “Since, for example, Jesus often stepped away from the needs of people to be alone with his Father in unhurried communion, might we, his followers, do well to learn to do the same?… I live not at the mercy of the culture’s pace, but blessed by the mercy of my unhurried Savior” (16).

So this has me thinking about urgency, time, a hurried pace and a hurried heart. I’ve been reading through the gospel of John with my junior high Sunday school class, and reading the story of the death (and raising) of Lazarus in chapter 11 a week or two ago, I was struck by these words: “So when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days” (v6). Lazarus was sick enough to warrant sending a message to Jesus about it, but Jesus waits two days to start the journey to Lazarus’ home in Bethany. One commentator suggested that Jesus spent these days in prayer to hear the Father’s will about this situation (which would account for Jesus thanking the Father for hearing a prayer not mentioned in the text [vv. 41-42]), though we can’t know for sure.

I don’t want to read too much “follow by example” into Jesus’ actions here, but it does suggest something: a need is not necessarily as urgent as we may think it is. Of course, I’m not suggesting that we ignore illnesses and emergencies so that we can pause to pray and find out what God wants us to do about them. However, sometimes we get unnecessarily anxious about things and they become much more urgent in our minds than they really are.

The author calls for a major change in our perspective, taking the long view: “How would our pace of life be affected if we fully realized that, as followers of Christ, we are living eternal life now? Since eternal life isn’t just a dim future promise but a vital present reality, what could be different about how we live our moments and our days?” (18)

If eternal life has already begun, what are we hurrying for?

This puts me in mind of the story I heard about the 2005 documentary called “Into Great Silence.” It follows the lives of a monastic order in France (who have taken vows of silence). The story goes that the director had an interest in entering the monastery to film its life, so he wrote them a letter requesting as much. Sixteen years later—sixteen!—they wrote back to say they would allow it.

Quite a remarkable thing. It’s a good story precisely because that’s not how our world works or how it expects things to happen. We have deadlines to keep, we have the courtesies of time to respect. The notion of an even larger story that has a different perspective on time—after all, what does time really mean if it’s eternal?—is so foreign in our culture that even as Christians we have difficulty breaking ourselves free from hurry. In fact, I write this with a certain amount of hesitation, as schedules and deadlines and punctuality are so deeply embedded in my own worldview.