Hurry is the enemy of mercy and busy–ness is the barrier to compassion

But we all want to be compassionate, right? None of you are reading this saying, “I really don’t want to be merciful and kind.” Nevertheless, if it is the case that we want to be compassionate, why are we not more compassionate? There are probably multiple reasons, not least of which is because we are broken too. Yet, in addition to that, for me, it is because I am too busy and distracted to be compassionate. As Carl Jung famously put it, “Hurry is not of the devil, it is the devil.” To riff off Jung, I would add that hurry is the enemy of mercy and busy–ness, the barrier to compassion.

One common thread in recent books about hurry highlights how most of us are at our worst when we are rushed. The comedian Tim Hawkins notes the irony of how our most ungodly time of the week is the minutes we spend rushing to worship on Sunday. To illustrate, he tells a story about when he was helping his children learn their memory verse on the way to church. But his stubborn kids would not cooperate. When Hawkins said, “Okay, tell me your verse,” they responded, “no, mom does the memory verses with us.” To which he said, “Not today, mom’s sick, so I’m in charge now.” But, according to Hawkins, his kids still would not give in. “Say it,” he begged. “Come on, please say it. Seriously, say it. You know it, come on, come on, it’s Philippians 4:7.” Finally, at the end of his rope, he shouted the verse at them, “GOD GIVES US A PEACE THAT GOES BEYOND UNDERSTANDING!”

Although perhaps not as vivid as screaming about God’s peace on your way to church, we likely can relate. Because of hurry we too often fail to react with compassion to others, particularly with our loved ones. Due to busy–ness, we rarely have time to listen deeply and reflect more, which is the seedbed of compassion. Rather, in a rush, we, like the dad above, often lash out in frustration and anger instead. Thereby we violate the command James gives in 1:19–20, “My dear brothers and sisters, understand this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger, for human anger does not accomplish God’s righteousness.” Just as our anger does not bring about the righteousness of God, neither does our hurry.

While there is no neat one–size–fits–all secret regarding how to slow down so that we can grow in compassion, whatever that takes for us, we must do it. For one thing, many of us have to say “no” more, since we are arguably defined more by what we say “no” to than what we say “yes” to. Moreover, we all know that worship, prayer, and meditation on Scripture help us to still our frenzied minds and calm our souls’ rushing waves. So, we’ve got to do those things more—not only for our sake but also for the sake of others. Those around us need us to smell like church too. To borrow from Yeats again:

     We can make our minds so like still water

     that beings gather about us

     that they may see,

     it may be,

     their own images,

     and so live for a moment with a clearer,

     perhaps even with a fiercer life

     because of our quiet.

This poem raises a final question. When is the last time human beings gathered around us so that they could see their reflection in our quiet, so that they might smell God’s compassion on our clothes, and feel Christ’s mercy on our skin? When is the last time your spouse, your children, your church members passed you by and, if only “for a moment,” were filled with a “fiercer life” and a sincere hope to help them carry on?

As one seeking to be a weeping lover whose life is like still water, I ask you to join me in this prayer:

     Lord, have mercy on me that I may show your mercy to others.
Slow me down, that your compassionate name will be spelled out in my life and your merciful aroma unmistakable to my neighbors.