I made the same mistake—twice—and didn’t even know I was doing it. In June 2017, I went on my first solo multi-day backpacking trip to the Kettle Moraine State Forest Southern Unit in Wisconsin. I had planned on a five-night trip, covering about 55 miles or so on the Ice Age Trail. The next summer took me to the northern unit of the KMSF for another 50+ mile hike.
Among the purposes of both outings was gaining experience, testing myself, and enjoying nature. The long-range goal for the last six years has been to hike the complete Long Trail in Vermont—a 272 mile trail that is, frankly, tough. In figuring the logistics of completing the Long Trail in a month, I would need to cover an average of 10 miles a day. So, my Ice Age Trail hikes were to see if hiking consistent 10 mile days was realistic for a continually getting older guy—especially lugging a 35-pound pack on my back!
Planning…
In planning for these hikes, I purchased the necessary Ice Age Trail Guidebook and maps. With these tools, I could figure out where to camp each night (and in the state forests, it must be in shelters that have to be reserved ahead of time), location of water supplies, distance between these points, and the character of the terrain. With all the planning done, reservations secured, food packed, I was ready to go.
In 2017, I arranged to park at a Christian camp in Whitewater, about ¾ of a mile from the trail. I arrived at the camp around 10:30 a.m., filled my water bottles, and headed for the trailhead. Reaching the trailhead a little after 11:00, I calculated I needed to cover about 10 miles to my first night’s shelter. At the average pace of 2 miles an hour, I should arrive at camp around 4:00. Perfect. Would give plenty of time to set up my tent, chill for awhile—maybe even take a short nap—fix dinner, and wait for the sunset.
In 2018, the pastor of a church north of Milwaukee graciously allowed me to park in the church parking lot for the week and agreed to give me a ride to the trailhead about 25 minutes away. The hike began around noon, and I needed to cover about 10 miles.
Hurrying…
Each year, as I headed off on the trails, I activated an app on my phone that would track distance covered and calories burned. This contributed to my mistake. I turned the app’s sound off; otherwise, every mile a voice would come from pocket updating me on my average speed. I didn’t want the sounds of the woods interrupted by some electronic faux voice. Nevertheless, I couldn’t keep from checking it every thirty minutes or so.
Generally, I was pleased with my progress. Note mileage covered…average pace…then calculation: “At this pace, I’ll arrive at the shelter by ___ o’clock.” Then it turned into a bit of a self-challenging thing. “Let’s see, if I pick up the pace just a bit, I can shave some time off, get to the shelter earlier, and give me more ‘chill’ time!” So, I’d hurry it up a tad.
And it worked! If memory serves me correctly, each day I arrived at the shelter earlier than originally calculated—meaning I hurried enough that my average was better than the typical 2 miles an hour! A good thing, right?
Well…no.
Or maybe rather, “It depends.”
If my objective were to get to each shelter as fast as possible each day, then I suppose it’d be OK. Maybe. Then one might rightly ask, “Why?” And I guess there are legitimate reasons for that objective. But it wasn’t what I’d set out to do. Yes, I was getting experience and learning that I could handle the mileage, but “nature” turned into something to overcome, to get through, rather than the creation of God to enjoy.
So, I hurried through each day’s miles.
In the “Pictures” folder on my computer are a couple subfolders—“2017 Backpacking” and “2018 Backpacking.” The folders should be full. But they’re not. O, I got some nice photos, but honestly, I was in too much of a hurry to stop very often and take pictures. Had to keep pushing…get to the next shelter…so I could relax! It almost sounds funny, doesn’t it?
Except it’s really not. That was my mistake. Hurry. And in my hurry, I missed out on a good chunk of what I was out there for in the first place.
I’m in good company, right?
Slowing down…
Dallas Willard suggests,
“You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life…. Hurry is the great enemy of the spiritual life in our day.”
John Mark Comer, The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, p. 19
David Zach’s analysis of the general spirit of the age led him to conclude many of us are “hyperliving,” which he defines as “skimming along the surface of life” (Comer, p. 221). I’m thinking a better term might be “hoverliving”—you know, like a hovercraft. Covers a lot of water quickly, but surely can’t plumb the depths.
This is such a common, modern malady that psychologists have labeled it “hurry sickness.” Here’s how a few have defined it:
• A behavior pattern characterized by continual rushing and anxiousness.
• A malaise in which a person feels chronically short of time, and so tends to perform every task faster and to get flustered when encountering any kind of display.
• A continuous struggle and unremitting attempt to accomplish or achieve more and more things or participate in more and more events in less and less time. (Meyer Friedman)
Quoted in Comer, p. 46
Need some tangible examples of how “hurry sickness” displays itself—besides shaving 30 minutes off the time on the trail to the next shelter? How about these offered by Rosemary Sword and Philip Zimbardo in their book The Time Cure:
- Moving from one checkout line to another because it looks shorter/faster.
- Counting the cars in front of you and either getting in the lane that has the least or is going the fastest.
- Multi-tasking to the point of forgetting one of the tasks.
As with every sickness, check to see if you have a preponderance of the symptoms. If so, might need some medicine—or at least a lifestyle change! So it is with “hurry sickness.” John Comer offers ten to consider:
- Irritability – You get mad, frustrated, or just annoyed way too easily.
- Hypersensitivity – The ordinary problems of life this side of Eden have a disproportionate effect on your emotional well-being and relational grace.
- Restlessness – you can’t relax.
- Workaholism – You don’t know when to stop…or can’t.
- Emotional numbness – You don’t have the capacity to feel someone else’s pain.
- Out-of-order priorities – You feel disconnected from your identity and calling. You’re always getting sucked into the tyranny of the urgent.
- Lack of care for your body – no time for exercise, a healthy diet, sufficient sleep.
- Escapist behaviors – Turning to distractions instead of what’s life-giving for our souls.
- Slippage of spiritual disciplines – lack of a quiet time, Scripture, prayer, Sabbath….
- Isolation – You feel disconnected from God, others, and even your own soul.
One more quote, but bear with me. If you’re like me, this is helpful, challenging stuff.
A “successful” life has become a violent enterprise. We make war on our own bodies, pushing them beyond their limits; war on our children. Because we cannot find enough time to be with them when they are hurt and afraid, and need our company; war on our spirit, because we are too preoccupied to listen to the quiet voices that seek to nourish and refresh us; war on our communities, because we are fearfully protecting what we have, and do not feel safe enough to be kind and generous; war on the earth, because we cannot take the time to place our feet on the ground and allow it to feed us, to taste its blessings, and give thanks.
— Wayne Muller, Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives
What about Jesus?
Now with all that in mind, read the gospels and get a sense of Jesus’ pace. When was he in a hurry? Never.
One example. You can find it in Matthew, Mark, and Luke (see Luke 8:40-56)
Remember when Jesus was on his way to Jairus’s house? The terrified man came begging Jesus to return with him and do something about his twelve-year-old daughter who was dying—she could slip into eternity any time.
Jesus agreed to go with the distraught dad.
But along the way, he’s intercepted by a woman who’s been suffering from some kind of bleeding issue. And here’s the thing. She’s been dealing with his affliction since Jairus’s daughter was born—twelve years ago! And she wants to slow him down from hurrying to the dying girl’s bedside! The nerve!
What did Jesus do?
He stopped. Took the time to do an investigation. Scanning the crowd. Asking some questions. Killing precious time with a young girl’s life at stake!
Can you imagine her dad?
“C’mon!” He mutters to himself. “Let’s go! Whoever did the touching is all good! Did you forget about my daughter???”
And no sooner did Jesus finish dealing with the now-healed woman but a messenger arrives with the news that Jairus’ daughter is dead. If only he’d hurried it up!
No. Jesus unhurriedly stayed on mission every step of the way, bringing health and life and deepening faith as he unhurriedly went. He was never in a hurry! Unlike me.
Comparing the simple, sane, methodical life of Jesus to the frenetic, harried pace of modern life, I sense Willard’s on to something.
You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life…. Hurry is the great enemy of the spiritual life in our day.
