My word for 2023 is slow. This word came to me as I was sitting in prayer and reflecting on the lessons of 2022. I had some very hard-to-swallow lessons last year, one of which was the fact that I am a workaholic. I use work and busyness to distract myself from pain, problems and the stillness that would inevitably force me to look inside and make hard changes that I want to avoid.
By the end of 2022, I finally realized that my habit of overworking and keeping myself busy was driving myself into a ditch where I was constantly tired, bewildered, exhausted and emotionally drained. Part of my busyness stems from codependency and the need to be everyone else’s savior and show up more for others than I ever show up for myself.
I falsely believed that this actually was a positive part of my personality and it would build me up and buoy a self-esteem that was always lacking. But the truth is that I am no one’s savior; I am not even my own savior. And my pattern of trying to help, fix, and rescue others from their problems is robbing them of a chance to find their Savior, the only Savior, that can actually save their souls.
As soon as I became more aware of my workaholism and busyness, I began to build healthier habits, and discern in the moment I wanted to work or do some thing if that was truly serving me or not. Most of the time the answer was not serving me, and even though everything in my body wanted to remain busy, I went against the grain of my patterns and habits and slowed down.
Slowing down was incredibly painful at first, lots of tears were shed in moments when I was finally still. But I learned that in those moments when I was still, I leaned into the presence of God and was able to feel all of the pain that I have been running from. I began to retrain my brain to seek stillness, peacefulness and slow living even if it was extremely painful. As I rewired my brain, I learned the beauty of living a slower pace of life and overcoming the desire to do so much and remain in my unhealthy habits and patterns that no longer served me.
For so long I tried to run on an empty tank, only going to the Lord and seeking refueling when I was so far past empty on my gas gauge that I had no choice but to slow down. I am learning that I don’t have to wait till I am desperately chained and exhausted to slow down.
I am learning that I don’t have to save anyone and that my self-esteem comes fully from the Lord and how God sees me alone. And I am learning that there is so much peace found in the steady pace of now embracing. It is contributing so much steadiness and stability to my life that I have needed for a very long time. And lastly, it is teaching me that by surrendering to the slow-life, I am both inviting God in and allowing him to do what God does best through surrender, trusting him to take care of both myself and his other children while I rest and rejuvenate my spirit.
On the job, the undone may be a task. In our hearts, the undone is us. In reality, time isn’t the enemy. Faster isn’t the answer. Undone isn’t the problem. And slow is actually part of the solution.
- Alicia Britt Chloe
Now that I am working in full-time ministry and serving outside of my full-time job, I see how the habits God is instilling in me where tantamount to my calling. That if I continued at the same pace I was going at before and relying on unhealthy habits to maintain that pace, I would be on a fast path to exhaustion, disease and overwhelm, all of which I have now seen are completely avoidable and preventable when I learn to slow down and rest.
A slow life, and all that comes with it—surrender, stillness, and letting go—has required more faith than I ever realized I could muster, along with the kind of trust that scares the crap out of me, forcing me to let go of all the control that I used, try to hold my life together, avoid pain, and remain busy in order to not have to surrender the control I used so long to feel safe.