Autumn officially arrived on September 22 here in the Northern Hemisphere. Nighttime temperatures gradually descend, feeling cooler and cooler. The sun rises later and sets earlier. Geese fly south. Migratory birds fill the skies. Prolific gardens fade. Outdoor pools close as summer activities vanish from the calendar. Light summer salads give way to hardy autumn stews. I hold my hands tight around my favorite pottery mug, glad for an extra bit of warmth in the brisking air of autumn as I am eager to settle into days of unhurry. There’s goodness in the air as things shift.

 

At the same time, autumn’s onset often feels like the chain reaction that occurs when one domino falls which topples another domino, and then another, and then yet another. First, the new rhythm of school began. Next Labor Day holiday came along. Suddenly, apples and pumpkins appear on café’s menus far and wide. Corn mazes and pumpkin patches dot the countryside. Families discuss where and with whom they’ll spend holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Day.  

 

The domino run successively flattens one tile after another. It’s easy to feel flattened by all the things on the horizon. Then we add in yet more by saying Yes, Yes, Yes, for FOMO—fear of missing out—breathes down our neck and flutters wildly in our head. 

 

What if we reverse the flutter, the run, the chain reaction?  

 

Fear of Missing Out

 

What if we change the meaning of FOMO from Fear of Missing Out to Freedom of Missing Out?  

 

Just saying that idea out loud—Freedom of Missing Out—slows my breathing then rearranges my heart, which then rearranges my hopes as well as my home.  

 

Do you think this fear of missing out springs from uncertainty or a skewed sense of who God is as well as of who we are? When I better grasp and engage with who God is and step into the wonder of how He beholds me, I am more able to believe and live into my own belovedness. From that grounded love space, I can behold who I am meant to be. Then I’m not so full of the fear of missing out. Instead, I experience freedom to step into the spacious love of God in the choices I make daily. Rather than grab or cling to every opportunity, I let go. I release the flurry of hurry. I enjoy God’s love of me and enjoy being yet more myself. 

 

The dogwood tree outside my office window serves as a good reminder to be willing to let go, to be fully who I am invited to be by my Good Heavenly Father.

  • If the dogwood tree held all its leaves all year long, it would not be what a dogwood tree is called to be: a lovely deciduous tree.
  • If this beautiful flowering dogwood tree kept its medium-green leaves and displayed those delicate white or pink flowers day after day, it would not be what it is called to be. It would be grabbing for something beyond its true name, true capacity.
  • Dogwood trees, when stressed, easily succumb to disease and pests. Heat and drought along with pollution act as detriments.  

 

I’m not so different than a tree in distress. When I am hurried, I am stressed. The flurry of hurry heats up my soul and body. When I am stressed, I don’t drink well from the Living Water Jesus offers. By choosing less, letting go, not taking on too much, a freedom shows up. That doesn’t happen when I’m on the trajectory of “I have to do it all,” or “I have to have it all,” of “I have to be it all.”  

 

The Freedom of Missing Out Carried Forward

 

The freedom of missing out carried forward will change the way we do life as the seasons unfolds. When I take on less, there is a joy that arises in the spaciousness at hand. Yet this idea is countercultural, even counter to what Christian culture displays.  

 

Dallas Willard taught on the idea of “ruthlessly eliminate hurry.” When we hurry, we add more and more to the docket.

We don’t pause.

We don’t drink deeply.

We don’t spend time in God’s presence.

We cause detriment to our beautiful soul.  

 

God, who cares deeply for our soul, invites us to a different pace, a pace which offers kindness to the interior landscape of the heart. When distraction demands more, “ruthlessly eliminate hurry.” When bright shiny things make us grab for more, “ruthlessly eliminate hurry.” When fear of missing out lures us in, “ruthlessly eliminate hurry.” Choose the freedom of missing out.

 

So, what does that look like in real life?  

 

Ruthlessly Eliminate Hurry

Watching Jesus, I see that He took on only what He particularly was called to be. What held Him to that space of never being in a hurry, not over-extending Himself? His earthly time, though brief, was not packed to the gills. 

 

We read through the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. There we watch Jesus slip away with His Father repeatedly.  

 

Sometimes we read He went alone to Father early in the morning. Sometimes it’s after a day full of ministry. Sometimes He lingers through the night in communion. (Don’t you wish we had a record of those conversations?!?!?  Surely, they were about the joy and sorrow at hand, about the love of you and me, all of us, as the catalyst for the way the days ahead unfolded.)  

 

What kept Jesus from the addiction of hurry? It’s the same thing that can keep me or you grounded in the joy of taking on less hurry, less doing, less keeping up with what others think we could or should be: it’s a regular rhythm of hearing what our Father in heaven invites us to be. 

 

My favorite part of the day comes when I’m just waking up. Still emerging from sleep, engulfed in sheets and blankets, even remnants of dreams, I breathe deep draughts of the dawning day.  

 

I allow myself to simply be in God’s presence.  

 

I simply inhale the wonder of being with God.  

 

I turn my heart’s gaze first upon the Trinity: Beloved Father, Jesus, & Holy Spirit, only to discover the lavishing deep love of a gaze upon me first, wrapping me with His delight in being with me, in loving me. Those first few minutes of the day, before I turn on the lamp or let my warm feet hit the cool floor become an antidote for the flurry that would like to reign. It’s a settling into the quiet silence and solitude that companion a dawn of unhurry. Being with Father, Son, and Holy Spirit engages my heart in presence. I enter the place of feeling beloved. All else fades away. 

 

I’ve left behind the noisy, the frenetic. I’ve moved into noticing, into fullness of Presence. It’s like C. S. Lewis says in Mere Christianity  

“It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes of the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. and so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind.”* 

 

How to Begin a Life of Unhurry

I don’t start with meditating on passages in the Bible, though that does occur joyfully before breakfast begins. I don’t begin with a time to intercede for family, friends, directees, retreatants, or authors & writers I work with right away, though the delight of praying for others surely create a glad thread throughout my day. I don’t engage yet with wholehearted books written by Christ followers of long ago or from this era in time. It’s not study time. It’s not prayer time. It’s being-with time. It’s noticing His voice, His gaze. 

 

Have you ever held a newborn baby? Ever gazed with adoration on that sweet little face? Ever noticed every little finger and toe? Ever enjoyed the gentle rise and fall of that young chest inhaling and exhaling? Ever savored the button nose, the tiny earlobe, the ruby-color of those tiny lips? That beholding creates an atmosphere of love around that little baby. Being so beheld, so beloved, is a treasure for both the baby and the beholder.  

 

Likewise, when I enjoy God’s gaze of love, I soak in the air of His delight. Then, I turn in love and gaze upon Him with such deep love. What happens here? I know I am beloved. I hear His voice in the quiet. “I love you, Lane.” I echo back, “I love You, God.” I feel close. I feel held. I feel the delight of being the daughter of my Father. I feel the joy of being the bride of my Bridegroom. I feel the gladness of being the friend of Holy Spirit.  

 

Love begets love. Silence settles me and sets the day into a calm atmosphere., grounding me in Kingdom goodness. 

 

This time of being with God, knowing His love of me and my love of Him, is like a mirror reflecting another mirror and another, and so on, and so on, an endless line of gazing and beholding with shimmering displays of affection and presence. Awe and worship radiate. 

 

Rising after such a lovely time in God’s presence prevents the rising fear of missing out, for I am rising from a place of freedom, of rest, of belovedness, of seeing how I’m seen with love, with longing, with belonging as Father, Son, and Spirit are my heart’s home.  

 

Having started here, in the peace of His Presence, I’ve moved from flurry to unhurry. I’ve ruthlessly eliminated unhurry before the day even unrolls. I may then savor time in the Bible, savoring words written, and the Word lived. I contemplate it all in conversation with God. He whispers wisdom of how to pray for those I love and serve, allowing His guidance and His questions to permeate my brain and become integrated in my heart. Prayer, confession, intercession, reflection, journaling, and reading with the heart for wisdom occur.  

 

What about you? What would it be like to unhurry as the day begins? When you sip your apple cider this morning, or inhale the rich aroma of your favorite coffee residing in your mug, what would it be like to let the day unfold into an aroma of freedom? What if you didn’t have to feel the run of the day flatten you, like a run of dominos rapidly galloping to a swift intensity? 

 

What if you could find your way to a day dazzling with unhurry, freedom of missing out, and deep belovedness? Just as the migratory birds wing their way from one location to another as the crisp air waves through gold, red, and orange leaves, may you wing your way to a new location, one full of being loved, being enjoyed, and in turn enjoying the One who finds you such a delight.  

 

Resources for Unhurry

Join My Mailing List

Encouragement delivered to your inbox

You have Successfully Subscribed!

Share This