Slow Down During the Shutdown

Maybe it’s just me, but since the advent of the smartphone in 2007, life has become additionally difficult. By difficult, I mean more frenetic. By difficult, I mean more hurried, more encumbered, and less rhythmic. Now, the only time I’m not connected is when I’m surfing.

Out there, floating in the ocean, there is freedom — freedom from the constant bombardment of information and need, of responsibility and expectations. Out there in the ocean, I am free for a small amount of time to assume the posture of ease and retreat from the leash of my iPhone. Out there, I more readily recline into the arms of God.

The work of a pastor has always been, more or less,  24-7. Before the smartphone, however, there seemed to be a gentler cadence to my day, a cadence that invited hard work and repose. A cadence that was not interrupted by a device that signaled: “No rest! Return that call, email, and text! Respond this second or people will think you’re slacking off!”

When I ride my bike to the beach carrying my surfboard, the phone stays home.

Paddling out, a large blue sky overhead, saltwater surrounding me, I am free to glide on the surf. To play. To feel the exhilaration of dropping into a wave, sliding down the face, my hand in the wall of water — without a cell phone.

This column is not a rant. I’m not complaining about my vocation or my day-to-day ministry. I remain in love with my work. I am grateful for it. I am thankful for my amazing church. I know, though, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m not the only one who feels captive to his or her phone.

Sure, smartphones have added some blessings to our lives. In some respects, my work has become more efficient. But efficiency shouldn’t be the sole measuring stick for work, or for life. Efficiency has its place, but efficiency without boundaries becomes slavery.

As I talk with folks in my church and people in our community, I am acutely aware of how little time people have to simply be, to take care of their deepest spiritual needs. The COVID-19 pandemic is showing us that slowing down is healthy and important. A slower pace is crucial to living a deeper and more centered existence.

And so I go to the sea. Out there, in the ocean, I am attuned to God’s voice, which whispers, “Take care of yourself. Make time for your bliss. Don’t allow your life to become so fractured that you forget how to live.”

And so, I go to the sea, the water washing over me and the sun in my face, the wind a companion along with the dolphins and gulls.

May you find your bliss and may you slow down to enjoy it. May you learn to measure your life not exclusively in terms of productivity, but in a way that respects your deepest spiritual needs.