"Sometimes I think of life as a big wagon wheel with many spokes.
In the middle is the hub. Often in ministry, it looks like we are
running around the rim trying to reach everybody. But God says,
'Start in the hub; live in the hub.
Then you will be connected with all the spokes,
and you won't have to run so fast.'"
~Henri Nouwen, in From Solitude to Community to Ministry
I don't know about you, but to me, that sure sounds good. Not running so fast. In my ministry to my family, my friends, my co-workers, and the people I actually serve in my work every day, I often feel like I'm running a million miles a minute. There is never enough of anything to go around--not enough time, not enough money, not enough attention, not enough ability--just plain not enough me. I can't make it all the way around the outside of that wheel. And I have been thinking a lot lately about what it looks like, how it would look different, to live in the hub.
It's hard to imagine, and I guess that just proves that maybe I've never been there, in the hub, but I sure know what it looks like here around the outside. It's hard to keep up, and doing so is a full-time job. That means all of the focus has to be on accomplishing the next impossible thing, meeting the next urgent need, leaping the next intimidating hurdle. And the worst thing about the inability to slow down that this creates is that there is never time to take a breath, or to gather your strength, or to say, "Whew! Now that that's finished, what do I need right now?"
This is largely how I've become the Worst Ever, in the world, at taking care of me. I didn't do it all at once. It took me a lifetime to get there. I know what I need. (That actually puts me ahead of a lot of people, I know.) I need sleep. I need to eat food. Actual, good-tasting, nourishing food, that I eat at regular intervals throughout the day. I need connections with other people that are deep and meaningful and real, and I need tiny indulgences like an extra $3 on something at the store that tells myself from me, "Hey, you are worth this!" and I need time, oh, how I need time--time to think, to read, to write, to plan, to pray. But instead, I stay up late, skip meals, spend more time on work and chores and obligations, worry and stress and find myself too busy or too tired for meaningful connections, and even my time in prayer is simply a chore, another item to be checked off the list.
I have neglected to prioritize the things that give me life.
I choose instead to sprint on to the next spoke, always hoping that maybe if I'm just a little faster this time I will make it around. Running around the outside means always dashing to the next place and the next task without stopping, without thinking, without hearing what your body and soul are crying out for.
In the hub, I'd guess you stand still.
Around the outside, there's not a moment to spare.
In the hub, there's no hurry.
The last few months have been a time for me to think a lot about that--about how I can walk right down one of those spokes to the middle, and about what changes I would need to make to do that. Tonight, forcing myself to take the scheduled time to sit, read, think, and rest that I put on my calendar a couple of months ago, I opened up to these words:
"He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season,
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers." ~Psalm 1:3
I thought about what it means to prosper--the dictionary says, "to become strong and flourishing; to thrive." I've heard this passage so many times, but it's amazing how different things can sound when you slow down. How I needed to hear those words tonight, to see this picture. The roots drinking deeply from that slow, continuous stream of life-giving nourishment. The fruit appearing slowly, seasonally, in its own good time. The tree that experiences and is touched by everything around it, but is not shaken or moved from its base, and is never deterred from its primary task-- to grow. Thrive. Bloom. Bear. Rest.
Oh, how I hope I am learning to be like that tree, and how I hope I am leading my sons this way too, leading them to the hub where I am slowly learning to find grace, peace, rest; and may they reach it sooner than me, because it is taking me a lifetime to get there.
