To Be Unhurried
On January 20th, we held a youth seminar. And while I could tell you about the 12 pastors, the 25 churches, the 137 children that filled our attendance sheets and the other innumerable children who trickled in afterward, there is something of even greater weight to recognize: a posture of unhurried; a posture glorifying to our Father.
We arrived in the narrow, orange dusted roads of a small village next to Lwebitakuli, an also small but central hub in the middle of Ssembabule district.
It was a Thursday afternoon – we had brought schoolbooks and food enough to serve 70 children. We were excited and anticipated the beautiful opportunity to teach, to encourage, and to break bread with one another over a shared meal. We had begun with a target of 50 children, but our friend, advocate, and ministry partner encouraged us 50 was too small of a number – she anticipated over 200. We ambitiously raised our expectations to 70 children, and prepared accordingly, with 200 nestled and nudging in the backs of our minds.
We prepared the supplies, wrote signage, outlined our teachings, made last minute purchases of onions and salt, and slept early in preparation for the coming morning.
5:15 am. I set and rolled out of bed to my alarm in the early morning darkness. Solar light in hand, I meandered to the outdoor bathroom, through the darkness of two slender brick buildings, alongside the pigs' pen, and back again to find my seat on the floor, leaning against the wall, in the storehouse made guest-bedroom. The iron-sheeted roof, cool brick, and completely metal doors fastened me inside, in the dark coolness of a Ugandan morning.
I had been reading through the book of Matthew and continued my journey that early morning through chapters 14 and 15. I prayed through the scripture – the Lord whom we serve: the humanity of Jesus, the Son of God.
I read and reminisced on His mercy and compassion, even on behalf of those He did not come to save; on behalf of the dogs fed the crumbs from their Masters’ table. He provided, nourished, and blessed many, with a posture of unhurried; He trusted His Father’s plans, and sought His Fathers’ Will through prayer. In the early morning, before the hustle and bustle, I prayed a simple and untailored prayer for the day ahead,
“Lord, give us wisdom. And please, let there be enough food. And if there is not enough food, satisfy us.”
We arrived at the church building with a group of children gathered inside. Expecting to begin at 9 am, we arrived promptly at 10 am and others, in true Africa-time fashion, trickled in behind us. As we took our seats, the blue-back plastic chairs, I looked outward at the empty benches. I attempted to count the few children in attendance, but quickly became occupied and decided the number was no more than 50.
As we opened in prayer and began the morning in praise and worship, we welcomed speaker after speaker, and slowly but surely, the benches became full. Between each speaker was a scheduled time of praise and worship – an unhurried and interruptible posture that forfeited our own agendas and programs to commune with God alongside one another.
We had scheduled the speakers to teach for 30 minutes each, and as time ticked from 30 to 40 to 50 minutes each, our time of praise and worship simultaneously increased from 15 minutes, to 20 to 30, and yet, there was always enough time.
I watched the clock, expectant of a mid-day meal, wondering in my heart if truly there would be enough to satisfy us all. And after over 200 people were served both food and drink, food remained in the saucepans.
God not only satisfied us all, He satisfied us in abundance.
Tyler Staton writes it this way:
“Prayer and mission fit together, hand in glove. To pray is to be invited to uncomfortable mission. To pray is to be led by the hand to broken places, broken people, and broken parts within yourself. Jesus feels at home in the company of the misfits, marginalized, oppressed, and outcast, so if you spend time in conversation with Jesus, you better believe he’ll invite you to come with him where he’s going. . . We must keep in mind, though, that when we make fruitfulness the goal, leapfrogging intimacy, we make a well-intentioned but tragic mistake. . . The problem is not the work of compassion, mercy, and justice; rather, the problem is the pursuit of fruitfulness apart from an equal pursuit of intimacy. Prayer is the furnace that fuels mission.” (141-142)
When we restore prayer to the center of our hearts, and the orientation from which all actions flow in place of productivity and agendas, God revives dry bones.
The modern church’s best-kept secret is this:
“We believe in productivity, not prayer. We believe in solid programs, above-average teaching, and yet another worship album release. That’s success right? The church’s underground atheism in our time is that we will busy ourselves with almost anything except prayer.”
When prayer is restored in the center of God’s people, revival and abundance come as a result. Our God is a God of overflowing abundance, and He invites us into His Will – a loving overflow.
As pray and welcome His Will to be done in our lives and those around us, we experience more of His Kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. We are not bound by time, by productivity, by pride, or by agendas; we are guided by prayer, intimacy, and communion, and as a result, we receive fruitful abundance.
In the journey of accepting, seeking, and trusting God, He will produce within us that which is most glorifying to Himself, most honoring to others, and most joyful and abundant in ourselves. When we seek, knock, and ask, we will find, the door will be opened, and we will be given.
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