When Did Life Become A Timed Event?
who are we trying to beat
In a doing contest, I can do anything faster than you. Ok, at least anything I’m used to doing, like walking, or talking, or eating. I do those all really fast!
I used to think I was better than slow doers. But turns out, I’m not better, I’m just more stressed. All this time, my rate of speed has been conveying so much urgency to my brain that it has decided all of life is one big catastrophe waiting to happen if I don’t hurry up.
But then I discovered that your brain takes repetition as a sign that something is significant. Add to that doing it really fast, and your brain gets the idea that this really matters!
And if that’s not bad enough, when you do everything fast, the old brain thinks everything matters, all of the time. And if it matters, then that means delays, interruptions, or changes in plans are suddenly like kryptonite to your brain, to be avoided at all costs lest you lose all your superpower.
When your brain thinks stuff is urgent, it assigns the responsibility of that stuff to you. And that assumed responsibility leads to assumed control, which just means taking on what belongs to God.
So speed isn’t just a bad habit, it’s my functional theology of control.
I know I talk about functional theology a lot, but it seems to me that if we say one thing about God, but behave in the opposite way, then we need to recognize it so we can align our conscious belief with our unconscious theology.
I say I believe God is sovereign, and that I trust His timing and that he holds outcomes, but my pace tells myself a different story. Because when I live like everything is urgent, I’m whispering to myself like Gollum, that my “precious everything” is mine to manage.
At some point, you have to notice the gap. Because if your behavior contradicts what you say you believe about God, then your behavior is revealing what your brain really thinks about the subject.
And you know what, it isn’t so much that I’m racing, it’s that I think I’m being timed. I move through my day like someone is tracking my pace, like I’m living a real-life version of The Amazing Race, where every delay leads me closer to being sent home.
So, my brain determines that slowness is trying to steal from me something I won’t ever get back.
I’m not even sure I’m just trying to get things done, I think I may be trying to prove something, like I’m capable, I’m not behind, or failing. Maybe I’m racing to justify my very existence.
And doesn’t that change everything?
The reality is that the same way my words say I trust God, my pace is saying something of its own. And now I’m wondering which one I actually believe.
Does anyone else live like this, or is it just me racing through existence like I’m being timed?