Hurried

The gate attendant announced that we would be boarding shortly, so I put my book away and got in line. When they called my group, three grown men shoved past me to get on the plane first.

We were in the first boarding group. We had assigned seats. The overhead bin space was not going to be full. There was no reason to hurry.

But, hurry is what we do.

I’ve been noticing the symptoms of hurry a lot lately.

I was in Utah for vacation, driving on a windy, narrow mountain road with my siblings, when a truck came barreling up from behind. Our pace (the speed limit) was evidently too slow for him, so he swerved into the opposite lane to get around us. Mercifully, no one was coming, because he certainly wouldn’t have been able to see around the bend if anyone was.  As it turns out, he was going the same place we were. He “beat” us there by seconds.

I was trying on a shirt at a small boutique later that week. Through the dressing room curtain, I heard a customer tell the saleswoman that she was ready to try on her clothes. The saleswoman told her that there was only one dressing room (mine, for the moment) and, as soon as I finished, she would be able to use it. She kindly offered to hold the woman’s clothing if she wanted to continue browsing while she waited.

“But, I’m ready to try my clothes on now,” said the clearly impatient shopper. “So, what do you suggest I do?”

I confess that a part of me wanted to take my sweet time in that dressing room.

Hurry is just what we do. It’s a habit.

Often, we don’t even realize we’re doing it, much less know why we’re doing it.

“Hurry,” writes John Ortberg, “is not just a disordered schedule. Hurry is a disordered heart.”

I don’t know what’s disordered in your heart. I know – at least in my more honest moments – what’s disordered in mine.

I prioritize productivity over people and movement over memories. I think more about what’s ahead of me than what’s right in front of me.

Life is short. Too often, it’s way too short.

Let’s slow down. Let’s learn to wait. Let’s find out what we have been missing. Let’s take a deep breath. Let’s stop and, quite literally, smell the roses.

Let’s get our hearts back on track.

Circles

Let’s try an experiment.

You’ll need a bandana, sidewalk chalk, an empty parking lot, and a friend (to make sure you don’t walk into a wall).

Draw a long straight line and stand at one end. Your task is simple. Walk that straight line blindfolded.

You can’t do it – at least not for more than a couple of yards.

Researchers have tested this and found absent external references points people will walk – get this – in circles, all the while convinced they are walking in a straight line.

What researchers don’t know is why this happens.

I don’t know either. But, it got me thinking.

Could it be that we weren’t made to be internally directed?

Could it be that we were made to orient ourselves to an external reference?

Here’s what I’ve noticed. When I take my eyes off of God – off of who He is, what He has done, and who He created me to be – I end up walking in circles.

I don’t need just any external reference. I need Him.

He the standard by which every part of me is measured. There is no other.

That’s why the author of Hebrews encouraged us to keep our eyes on Jesus, “the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.”

He is the beginning and the end and everything in between.

He has His heart set on me – and on you.

Let’s stop walking in circles.

Let’s set our eyes – and our hearts – on Him.

Hot Pockets

I love stand-up comedy.

Of all my (many) quirks, this is the one my family teases me about most often, probably because I think that because I listen to a lot of comedy I, too, must be hilarious. Apparently, it does not work that way.  But, I digress.

The reason I love stand-up comedy is that it exposes ridiculous human behaviors through the lens of the mundane. We are bizarre creatures and don’t even know it.

The other night, I went to see one of my favorite comedians – Jim Gaffigan. He is known for his bits on food and is best known for his piece on Hot Pockets.

If you’ve never had a Hot Pocket, congratulations. You are in an elite club  that comprises seven other Americans.

Hot Pockets, as described by Gaffigan, are a Pop-Tart crust filled with nasty meat. There is also a vegetarian version for “people who don’t want to eat meat, but still want diarrhea.”

I don’t think anyone is under any illusion that Hot Pockets are healthy. No one thinks they are doing their body any good by consuming a Hot Pocket. Yet, millions are sold every year.

“I’ve never eaten a Hot Pocket and afterwards thought ‘I’m glad I ate that,’” Gaffigan observes.

I listened (and laughed) as he talked about Hot Pockets, and thought about how I have made a lot of choices I know aren’t good for me, exposing me as the ridiculous person I am.

I've chosen to cling to jealousy and watched my gratitude erode.

I've chosen to be dishonest and watched trust deteriorate.

I've chosen selfishness and watched relationships break down.

I've never given into greed, arrogance, impatience, anger, disloyalty, or cowardice, and afterwards thought, "I'm glad I did that."

There's just nothing funny about self-destruction.

I'm going to be more careful about what I let into my heart. There is too much at stake.

Good Over Fast

A couple nights ago, a friend and I met at a local coffee shop to catch up. Our conversation turned to traveling and she began telling me about the time she and her husband spent in Europe. 

She said that they quickly noticed that the Europeans seemed, on the whole, to be more fit that most Americans, even though local businesses would close down in the middle of the day to enjoy a long meal and it wasn’t uncommon for dinner to stretch late into the night. My friends couldn’t understand how these people, who seemed to spend so much of their time eating, managed to stay so lean.

Finally, her husband decided to ask a waitress to explain it to him. Her response was profound.

“You eat food fast,” she said. “We eat good food.”

She’s right, I think.

We often opt for fast over good. We choose convenience over quality. We think more about efficiency than we do enjoyment.

And we are paying a price for those choices. Our health is suffering. Cancer and heart disease are prevalent. More than half of all Americans are on medication – many on more than one.

Certainly, food is not the only factor. That’s not really the point, though.

The point is our tendency for fast over good – a mentality that spills into other parts of our lives.

Particularly, our relationships.

It is often how we approach our friendships, our marriages, our children and even God.

Relationships take work. They take investment. They take time. They are meant to be savored, cherished, enjoyed. When we prioritize convenience over community, we miss out on the goodness of relationships. 

And we pay a price for that choice.

I’m going to choose to prioritize the good - the better. I hope you do too.  Slow down. Savor the people in your life. Take time to enjoy your relationships - including (and especially) with God.

The Curse of Zeigarnik

There is a concept in psychological research known as the Zeigarnik Effect. The basic idea is that people have a drive to complete tasks rather than leave them unfinished. It’s why loyalty cards are effective. It’s why we loathe having an inbox full of unread emails. It’s why we feel a sense of accomplishment when we check something off our to-do lists. It’s why we don’t like to be interrupted when we’re in the middle of something.

The Zeigarnik Effect is key to being a functional and productive person. Can you imagine how little we would accomplish without this drive to finish things? We would probably never take out the garbage, remember to go grocery shopping, or bother with any of the less exciting tasks necessary to living as a properly socialized adult.

However, this blessing can quickly become a curse.

You see, the Zeigarnik Effect impacts what we do, but can also blind us who we are – and who we are becoming.

We can easily become more focused on productivity than people, more concerned with results than relationships, and more taken by completion than character.

To put what we do ahead of what we are is to put the cart before the horse. What we do ought to flow out of who we are, not the other way around.

Maybe we need fewer to-do lists. Maybe we need a to-be list. Maybe we need to spend less time on tasks – important though they may be – and spend more time on cultivating generosity, walking in faithfulness, exercising patience and making peace with others.

Don’t fall victim to the curse of Zeigarnik. Resist the urge to measure your life by your productivity. Resolve to spend time on who you are.

Making Time for What Matters

We make time for what matters to us. Our priorities are never more apparent than when life gets busy.

 If you were to follow me around for a day, you would almost certainly be bored, but you would learn a lot about what matters to me. You would learn that there is often a difference between my “held priorities” and my “operational priorities.”

“Held priorities” are what we say matters to us.  “Operational priorities” are what we do.

So, if I say, for example, that my family matters to me, but I never call or visit them, you would rightly conclude that there is a discrepancy between my “held priorities” and my “operational priorities.” I’m saying one thing matters to me, but I’m not doing anything that would indicate that it actually does.

Think for a bit about what matters to you. Write it down. Then, pull out your calendar and ask yourself if your held priorities are operational in your life. That is, do what you say and what you do line up?

A change may be in order. It may be a big change, like pulling back on your commitments at work to make time to be with your family. It may be a small change, like waking up a half an hour earlier to exercise.

Let me share one small change I am making.

Writing matters to me. There has been a discrepancy, though. I say it matters, but I don’t do it. It is time for me to remedy that.

You can hold me to it.