Slow Down, Child

Slow down, child. Why all the racing? Running frantically? Living like a web getting more entangled the faster you go?

Don’t you know, beauty is in the slow?

A mother flutters to her nest, she slowly built. Bees buzz, pollinating for the good of nature. Spring’s fragrance moves from the gentle, slow breeze, flowing across the land.

Whatever good came from striving for earthly gain? Living to please flesh, wearying yourself to keep up with images of people you’ve never met?

Why do you race child, like you can speed up time? Work, strive, do…as if gaining and attaining are all that matter?

What if you were to sit still and just “be”? Would world’s fall apart? Would the life you created really crumble and disinegrate?

What if you stopped to see the little ones gripping your finger? Really watched the slow feet pattering across the moist lawn, barely ballancing?

What if you laughed and played in the break of dawn, really living without fear or regret?

What if you let the aroma of a carefully planned meal sink itself deep into your bones, tasting the scent of victory as the one you prayed for made their way home?

What if you gripped eyes with the one you walked down the isle with? Took time to meander down your country dirt road, hearing laughter, and little voices, dancing beside you?

Why so fast?

Why this frenzied, fanatical, determination to get things done? Make thing perfect? Keep your

house like those strangers you see on Pinterest?

Why do you race to work, ministry, sports, and activities? Would the world really stop without your assisting?

Child, your worth is not in what you do?

You were chosen, planned, predestined before the foundations of the earth, before you could stand, walk, or achieve anything? Don’t you know that?

You were loved, wanted, worthy, before you took your first breath. 

Didn’t I go to the cross for you, while you were still a sinner, before you came wanting to do or even knew about repentence?

Wasn’t it my wild and perfect love for you that drew you in the first place?  Me, your first love, wanted you before you cleaned yourself up…

Before you even knew or understood you were loved, just the way you are?

My journey to the cross wasn’t quick, was it?

The lashings, crown of thorns, slow staggering with the weight of that cross on my back. I didn’t rush….did I?

I counted the cost, weighed, measured the ramifications of each step equalling my love for you…

Still yes, I could have summoned a thousand angels to rush your redemption….

But I didn’t.

I knew the plan was slow, beautiful. Requiring my moment by moment surrender and obedience.

Not just some quick fix, some magic wand, some instant fix to come and erase the weight of sin and pain.

And what about the man next to me, dangling? The murderer.

He offered me nothing, except the confession of his own, repentent heart. And wasn’t that enough? Didn’t I say he would be with me that day in paradise?

And yet, He had not even one good work. So, why all the working and strive, child?

Salvation is in the slow, thoughtful, intentional, commitment to hang alongside me; whatever the cost…

The faith to believe; I am greater than your failings, your struggles or your dreams.

I already came to save the world. You don’t have to.

Why are you running so fast? Missing the prize? Didn’t I call you to simple slow and look into my eyes?

Sell all you have child, and come to where I rest. I am The Pearl of Great Price. It costs nothing but your humble, slow, intentional surrender, to find me.

The cross was never the fast way.

Discipling the twelve didn’t only last a day. All relationship requires patience, obedience, suffering, not some quick band-aid-faith of throwing your fists up to heaven and demanding your own way.

That doesn’t work in my Kingdom.

Time is relative. Have you forgotten? I am patient, long-suffering, and my order is perfect?

My ways are not your ways. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t care or don’t hear you in the exact very nanosecond you cry out to me.

I am near, even in that moment you even hint at the thought of looking towards me.

I am your first love. And real love isn’t afraid to marinate in goodness. It doesn’t demand, is sudden, or fast.

It’s the journey, not the destination that holds weight and glory.

Oh child, can I look into your eyes? I am the perfect husband.

Yet, when distractions come, why do you act like a hummingbird, frantically racing your way from here to there? Fluttering a hundred miles an hour, but landing nowhere?

Be like the heron instead. She waits, seeks, and stands unshaken and still.

She rests in the talk grass or along swampy waters, trusting I will bring its food, knowing I supply every good thing, I am the sole source of all of her needs.

I satisfy those who are still and searching. Never in a hurry. Content to trust me with the resources of earth and heaven.

You need not strive or force your own way.

Have you watched the heron soar?

It doesn’t flutter crazily, but instead opens wide its wings and soars. It trusts the wind I’ve given her, requiring nothing less or more.

I am calling you to span your winds and ride wide and long, like she. Tummy full, gliding high where skies call and heaven awaits, wide and free.

Those who know their identity never jitter. Never waver. Never live in anxiety or doubt.

They remember, they serve a God who turns back time, parts the seas, owns cattle on a thousand hills, dresses the lilly’s and will surely care for you.

They walk, one foot at a time, in front of the other, like I did to the cross.

Follow The Light of the World, make way for my plans and purposes. Like a child not needing to have all the answers.

And I, when I found you? I didn’t come and demand you change instantly. I didn’t force or insist on my own will or my way.

Instead, I waited patiently, gently, for you to see the truth….

For my Spirit to saturate you so fully, you couldn’t help but be drawn in, near. Using your wings and flying are your choice. 

Yet, it is the wind of my spirit that draws all souls to the sun.

It’s the kindness of my ways that leads to repentence. It’s my love that smothers sin and draws even the rocks to cry out for purpose.

It’s not duty or agenda’s that make up my Kingdom.

I wait for you. I stop. Fix my eyes on your heart, not the hands you hold open to bring me good works.

I want your heart. And all hearts are cultivated in the quiet, the places you are still, and cultivate when no one is looking.

Bring your heart to me, child. I am not too rushed or too busy. I wait for you.

Like the murderer on the cross, all you have to do is cry out to me.

Come walk with me in the clear breeze of morning. Take my hand. The world will wait. Yes, I have so much to share with you.

Still yourself. Slow down. Come near to me. Why rush? In the quiet, there lies everything you need…

I am waiting. In me there is healing. Can’t you hear me whispering, “Come find rest”?