From Rush to Rest: Navigating Life's Terrain with an Unhurried Heart

Blog by Gem Fadling

I love watching travelogues and cooking shows, so if there’s a show that combines the two, I’m hooked. If you are familiar with the names Phil Rosenthal, Guy Fieri, and Andrew Zimmern, then you know what I’m talking about.

Traveling, eating tasty food, and meeting intriguing people is a combination my heart longs for. I’ve often mentioned to Alan that if I could have a job in an alternate universe, I would be the host of Somebody Feed Phil (and I guess Phil would just have to find his own new job).

Awhile back I stumbled upon a YouTube channel hosted by a young woman named Eva zu Beck. Eva travels, along with her dog, in an overlander. She vlogs about her nomadic lifestyle and shares the beauty of the terrain as well as the people she meets. She also reveals her own personal journey and the process of traveling alone. If you have an inner traveler, you might want to check out her channel.

In one video Eva shared a journal excerpt from her grandfather who had also been a world traveler. I was struck by his words and felt they rang out with the unhurried theme. Here’s what he wrote as he processed the miles he had traversed:

I noticed something changing in me. I’ve lost all my rush. The miles no longer impress me. Whether there’s one hundred, two hundred or six hundred of them, they leave me indifferent because I must cross that distance anyway.

So I’m not afraid of distances anymore. And the same applies to time. Whether I’m due to be on the road for five hours or seventeen—what’s the difference? Either way, I must reach my destination.

I don’t get anxious about the slow, tortoise-like pace. I simply get into my vehicle and I ride so far and for so long, in absolute peace, until I finally reach the destination that I have set for myself.

I also don’t let myself get bothered by the discomforts, such as a hard seat, heat, dust, the lack of water. All of this, in its own way, is beautiful and wonderful.

Whoever cannot adapt to this kind of life; in fact, whoever cannot come to love this kind of life, cannot be a true traveler.

To be a true traveler requires strength of character. (You can read Eva’s post HERE.)

These words brought to mind the title of Eugene Peterson’s book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction. I’ve chosen a path, focus, vision, and direction, and I’m in the for the long haul. And I believe you are too. Over my 60 years of life, God has certainly sustained me through all that life has thrown at me.

Eva’s grandfather stumbled upon some truly unhurried dynamics:

• The distance doesn’t matter. I must cross the terrain anyway, so it’s okay to ease in and let go.
• A slow pace need not lead to anxiety. I can choose peace and simply move forward.
• Maybe it’s possible to find beauty in discomfort. (Think of inner desert, wilderness, or fog-like seasons of life.)
• Traveling a long distance requires strength of character.

During last July’s one-month mini-sabbatical, my heart did, in fact, have a chance to slow inside. We engaged a multiday road trip, and I had enough space to let go of the next day and to take things as they came. It’s a great feeling to not feel trapped by the clock or calendar.

I wondered if it was possible to bring that spirit back into my work. What would it look like to live each day on its own terms, without dreading what was to come? Yes, there was a plan on our trip, but I didn’t have to strive or reach for what was next. I was in a different mode.

Why is it so hard for me to engage that relaxed mode in my regular life?

On vacation I lived each day as it came. I went to bed each night feeling thankful for the day I was in. The next day I got up and engaged whatever the day held. I let it flow, and if there was anything on that day’s agenda I just went—no pushing or striving.

I determined to try to continue the practice at work: live each day, go to bed thankful for the day, and not think about the next day with any kind of fear or anxiety. My work anxieties flare when I bring a future event into my present. I carry too many things at once and it becomes burdensome. But I don’t look ahead like that in vacation mode. Maybe this could become practice for my regular life.

Without this shift of mindset, I can be like a ball in a pinball machine. The pace and proclamations of our culture repeatedly slap me back into that game-maze: You need this! You need that! You’re behind! Get going! Ping, ping-ping, ping!

An expansive, settled, unrushed journey can be engaged without striving. I know this is true because I have experienced it on vacation. So why not try it in work mode? This is what I’m practicing.

Pushing, trying, and angsting do not work for me. If I can maintain a larger and more relaxed view, then I do not have to fall prey to the culture’s traps. Maybe I could find my place and enjoy the ride.

I choose not to be the ball in the pinball machine. I’m opening the cover, reaching in, taking my ball, and walking away. I could then hold that ball in my open hand as I meet with God, seeking wisdom, love, and care.

And like Eva’s grandfather, I could simply drive at my pace, enjoying the beauty of the terrain and making my way in peace.

For Reflection: 

• How do you feel about the pace of your work life? What might be done about that?
• What character growth do you notice as you continue your own long obedience in the same direction?
• What might you let go of to engage life the way you desire?