In a world that glorifies speed, slowing down can feel like you’re falling behind. We rush from one appointment to the next, one business meeting to the next, scroll through our phones like our thumbs are on fire, and gulp down coffee as if caffeine could make up for the lack of peace within our souls. We equate busyness with importance, activity with accomplishment.
But God doesn’t move at the pace of our calendars or inbox. The same God who set the stars in their places and taught the tide its rhythm rarely seems to be in a hurry. His purposes unfold through seasons—seedtime and harvest, promise and fulfillment. We, on the other hand, confuse motion with meaning.
Elijah learned that lesson in the wilderness. After his great victory on Mount Carmel, he ran for his life, weary and afraid. He looked for God in the earthquake, the wind, and the fire, but the Lord wasn’t in any of them. Then came a gentle whisper. It was only when Elijah stopped running—when he slowed down enough to listen—that he heard God’s voice and refocused on His mission.
Jesus modeled that same divine pace. He never rushed, never panicked. When the crowds pressed in, He withdrew to pray. Even when word came that His friend Lazarus was dying, Jesus waited two days before leaving. Why? Because God’s timing—not human urgency—sets the agenda for redemption. To hurry is to live as if everything depends on us. To wait is to live as if everything depends on God.
What I’m saying is this: slowing down isn’t laziness before God but learning to trust Him. It’s admitting that the world will keep spinning even if we don’t. And when we pause long enough to pray, to listen, to breathe, we find that God isn’t behind us trying to catch up. He’s ahead of us, inviting us to catch up with Him. Sometimes we just have to slow down in order to keep up with Heaven’s pace.
Maranatha,
Jordy
