When I was learning to ride a bike, my Dad held gently onto the back of my seat. At the park by our old house, he would slowly push me and then I would ride as fast I could down the sidewalk. I usually liked knowing my Dad was right behind me in case I lost my balance and fell into the grass. However, one time I just wanted to see how far I could ride without my Dad’s careful gaze behind me. He pushed, and then I glided down the sidewalk, the wind blowing through my hair and the sun shining above me. I liked the feeling so much, that I kept pedaling faster and faster. “Brooke! Brooke!” I heard my Dad calling from behind me, but I ignored him.
What happened next? Well, I eventually fell and lost my balance. Are we surprised? My Dad came sprinting to help me. My parents are very kind, gentle people but growing up they never shied away from telling me when I was wrong. And, in the park, my Dad told me I should’ve waited for him. That he knew I heard him, and I still kept riding as fast I could.
I’m still that girl that likes to ride her bike as fast as I can. I’m a go-getter. If I have a goal, I work as hard as I can to achieve it. I plan out the steps that it will take to get to the next step and I do it. One of my favorite professors once told me that I don’t just daydream, but I do the work to make the dream happen. That’s why when things take longer to happen in my life, I can find myself wanting to pedal as fast as I can to get to the next destination.
When summer began this year, it seemed to stretch out before me. I had already taken my planned summer trip. I wasn’t teaching. And I didn’t have any major projects to work on. A slow summer? I didn’t know if I would be a fan. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore summer. Maybe it’s being a July baby but summers bring me so much joy --- even the heat. I’d much rather sweat than shiver, which is why I barely made it through two Syracuse winters while in grad school.
But sometimes slowing down, the desires that I’ve kept close to my heart come bubbling up to the surface. Timelines that I have in my head of when I’m supposed to reach certain goals are etched in my mind. Without something to check off my to-do list or a new big dream in my mind, I wonder if I’m falling behind?
One of my favorite stories in the Bible is in Joshua. The walls to get into Jericho are securely barred, but the Lord instructs Joshua and the Israelite army to march around Jericho once every day for six days to gain access to the city. On the seventh day, they would march around the city seven times with priests blowing trumpets. Then, he told the whole army to shout and the wall around the city will collapse.
Luckily I’m not Joshua, because I would’ve reacted like the guy in that slow-blink meme. Seriously, God? March around a city, blow some trumpets, and this is how you want me to win a battle? Can’t I get something a little more dramatic?
What I love about the Lord is his instructions are usually simple, even when I desire something grander. What were the Israelites and Joshua thinking as they marched around the city day after day? Did they wonder if the walls would actually fall on the seventh day? Or did they secretly think God was laughing at them as they marched around in circles?
On one of those slow summer weeks in June, I stumbled upon this song while listening to a podcast. The lyrics filled my quiet apartment: I wanna move slowly. Cause this moment is holy. You’re never in hurry. So why ever would I be?
God often asks me to take slow, deliberate steps towards the future I’m dreaming about. And I’m starting to realize, it’s because of these that lyrics come up next: Search me and know me. Prune what you find.
As Joshua and the Israelite army marched around Jericho for seven days, I wonder what was happening in them? What kind of faith was being built? What kind of trust in God? What was God building in them before they could step into their next season? And what was God building in me this summer?
As the song continues, this is the lyric that changed it all for me: The slower I go. The faster I arrive.
Everything about life with Jesus is counterculture. If someone wrongs you, you’re supposed to turn the other cheek. Pray for your enemies. Love those who curse you. Don’t worry about anything. Pray about everything. I’ve learned that usually what comes to my mind first is the exact opposite of the way God would instruct me to go.
So, maybe there’s something to the slow, deliberate steps to the future. Maybe, God is breaking things off, shaping, and molding me into the woman that can handle the future she’s praying about. And maybe, there’s moments this summer: days at the beach, long talks over dinner, a beautiful 4th of July day with my parents, mornings reading my Bible, and other memories that he wants me to cherish right here, right now.
Last Sunday at church, I was late. As I ran out of my house, I knew that I would have to park in the overflow lot and would likely struggle to find a seat. Once I made it inside, I was flustered, but managed to find a seat way in the back of the auditorium. As worship began, my heart rate slowed. In front of me, I saw a woman signing to the music. Her hands soared in the air as the music did, and even though I know she couldn't hear the sounds the same way I did, she seemed content. I would've never noticed her if I didn't look up or take a second to breathe.
If you keep reading the story about Joshua and the Israelites, you know that the walls in Jericho do eventually fall on the seventh day. They take over the city and win the battle. So, I know this moment in my life is temporary. I know that my marching will come to an end. I’ll make it to the other side. My prayers will get answered. And even on the other side of the wall, there will still be new battles to fight. One that God was equipping me to handle in this season of waiting. But even in the in between, I know there’s value here. There’s beauty here. And I don’t have to ride my bike as fast I can to get to the next season.
What happened next? Well, I eventually fell and lost my balance. Are we surprised? My Dad came sprinting to help me. My parents are very kind, gentle people but growing up they never shied away from telling me when I was wrong. And, in the park, my Dad told me I should’ve waited for him. That he knew I heard him, and I still kept riding as fast I could.
I’m still that girl that likes to ride her bike as fast as I can. I’m a go-getter. If I have a goal, I work as hard as I can to achieve it. I plan out the steps that it will take to get to the next step and I do it. One of my favorite professors once told me that I don’t just daydream, but I do the work to make the dream happen. That’s why when things take longer to happen in my life, I can find myself wanting to pedal as fast as I can to get to the next destination.
When summer began this year, it seemed to stretch out before me. I had already taken my planned summer trip. I wasn’t teaching. And I didn’t have any major projects to work on. A slow summer? I didn’t know if I would be a fan. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore summer. Maybe it’s being a July baby but summers bring me so much joy --- even the heat. I’d much rather sweat than shiver, which is why I barely made it through two Syracuse winters while in grad school.
But sometimes slowing down, the desires that I’ve kept close to my heart come bubbling up to the surface. Timelines that I have in my head of when I’m supposed to reach certain goals are etched in my mind. Without something to check off my to-do list or a new big dream in my mind, I wonder if I’m falling behind?
One of my favorite stories in the Bible is in Joshua. The walls to get into Jericho are securely barred, but the Lord instructs Joshua and the Israelite army to march around Jericho once every day for six days to gain access to the city. On the seventh day, they would march around the city seven times with priests blowing trumpets. Then, he told the whole army to shout and the wall around the city will collapse.
Luckily I’m not Joshua, because I would’ve reacted like the guy in that slow-blink meme. Seriously, God? March around a city, blow some trumpets, and this is how you want me to win a battle? Can’t I get something a little more dramatic?
What I love about the Lord is his instructions are usually simple, even when I desire something grander. What were the Israelites and Joshua thinking as they marched around the city day after day? Did they wonder if the walls would actually fall on the seventh day? Or did they secretly think God was laughing at them as they marched around in circles?
On one of those slow summer weeks in June, I stumbled upon this song while listening to a podcast. The lyrics filled my quiet apartment: I wanna move slowly. Cause this moment is holy. You’re never in hurry. So why ever would I be?
God often asks me to take slow, deliberate steps towards the future I’m dreaming about. And I’m starting to realize, it’s because of these that lyrics come up next: Search me and know me. Prune what you find.
As Joshua and the Israelite army marched around Jericho for seven days, I wonder what was happening in them? What kind of faith was being built? What kind of trust in God? What was God building in them before they could step into their next season? And what was God building in me this summer?
As the song continues, this is the lyric that changed it all for me: The slower I go. The faster I arrive.
Everything about life with Jesus is counterculture. If someone wrongs you, you’re supposed to turn the other cheek. Pray for your enemies. Love those who curse you. Don’t worry about anything. Pray about everything. I’ve learned that usually what comes to my mind first is the exact opposite of the way God would instruct me to go.
So, maybe there’s something to the slow, deliberate steps to the future. Maybe, God is breaking things off, shaping, and molding me into the woman that can handle the future she’s praying about. And maybe, there’s moments this summer: days at the beach, long talks over dinner, a beautiful 4th of July day with my parents, mornings reading my Bible, and other memories that he wants me to cherish right here, right now.
Last Sunday at church, I was late. As I ran out of my house, I knew that I would have to park in the overflow lot and would likely struggle to find a seat. Once I made it inside, I was flustered, but managed to find a seat way in the back of the auditorium. As worship began, my heart rate slowed. In front of me, I saw a woman signing to the music. Her hands soared in the air as the music did, and even though I know she couldn't hear the sounds the same way I did, she seemed content. I would've never noticed her if I didn't look up or take a second to breathe.
If you keep reading the story about Joshua and the Israelites, you know that the walls in Jericho do eventually fall on the seventh day. They take over the city and win the battle. So, I know this moment in my life is temporary. I know that my marching will come to an end. I’ll make it to the other side. My prayers will get answered. And even on the other side of the wall, there will still be new battles to fight. One that God was equipping me to handle in this season of waiting. But even in the in between, I know there’s value here. There’s beauty here. And I don’t have to ride my bike as fast I can to get to the next season.