The week was busy.
The pace was rushed.
It was a chain of events -
a tag team of happenings that found their end in the next.
It wasn't quiet.
I was breathless...
running from one obligation
and pushing into the next.
Expecting time to move with my pace:
Immediate.
Without margin.
And so I entered my time of prayer,
wanting to close my eyes and have Him be there...
with minimal preparation
and limited effort.
Nothing."I am slow."
God never shows up late.
He doesn't come too early.
He comes at just the right time.
Precisely.
He isn't bound by the fast forward cycle of our culture.
He doesn't rush.
He never squeezes in as much as He can in the least amount of time possible.
He doesn't chomp at the bit to get His two cents in.
He's into waiting.
Getting it right the first round through.
Taking the time.
Investing.
Prioritizing.
He is slow...
Slow to anger.
Slow to speak.
Slow to answer.
...in our concept of time anyway.
He wants us to know the fulfillment of something duly waited for.
To participate in the process.
We see this in the journey from seed to plant.
The steps of conception to birth.
Transitions of dusk to dawn.
Departure to destination.
It is a gentle courtship of a heart
that must learn the rewarding pace of slow
on both signs of the coin -
Not just from the pursuer,
but the pursued.
I must be slow...
slow to voice the trillion thoughts inside my head.
To always be the one to speak.
To get my word in.
To be doing.
To allow dialogue.
To allow pursuit.
