Day Fourteen

Day Fourteen // March 12 // Stridence in Pacing

“Become slower in your journey through life. Practice meditation if you suffer from ‘hurry sickness.’ Become more introspective by visiting quiet places such as churches, museums, mountains and lakes. Give yourself permission to read at least one novel a month for pleasure.” – Wayne Dyer –

The true life of faith is not for the faint of heart. It is not for the timid or the cautious. It is not fed by the lazy or lethargic. It leaves no room for apathy or indifference or self-concern, for the path of faith leads to a rugged and splintered cross. This type of faith – this selfless and sacrificial faith – is rare. It is hard. It requires much more of us then we want to give… more than we think is actually possible. So, it’s easy to understand why so many of us don’t try. In the face of such staggering odds, it’s almost commonsensical to give up, to put our lives of faith on autopilot, to let them take care of themselves.

We hurry ourselves with all of the outer trappings of what we think “faith” is supposed to look like but none of the dearest and deepest elements of what it really is. We sate ourselves by going to church and by trying to make the right choices (most of the time); we open ourselves in small ways to being formed by faith’s subtle hands; we allow ourselves to be informed by faith… but we pull short of letting ourselves be fully transformed by it.

Transformation takes time. It is a rigorous, timeconsuming, life-consuming process of tending the fertile soil of our souls. It requires patience and devotion, for the first sprouts of growth that break free from the parched ground of our lives come slowly into the sunshine. Deep beneath the surface, though, we must know that the roots of love and gentleness, of hope and joy and peace are tapping into the rich springs of God’s goodness. There may be few outward signs of growth, and it can be a frustratingly tedious journey; but even then – especially then – we must continue to water the fragile seedlings of our faith. We need to bathe them with prayer and worship, with silence and patience. We need to feel the forest breathing and to hear the growth of the trees.

We need to use these days of Lent to slow down and to listen more. Spend some time in nature. Be honest and real about our true priorities. Set limits and give ourselves some “technology free” spaces. Don’t make mountains out of molehills. For when we slow down, we

see and hear better. We need to heed Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sage advice:

“Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God, But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round and pluck blackberries.”