I was so excited when I saw the schedule request form for Fall semester. One of the courses offered is a full semester on preaching Deuteronomy. A whole semester studying Deuteronomy sounded so appealing, a great opportunity to get into the text. When I turned in my course request form, Deuteronomy was ranked as my number one selection.
While waiting to learn which courses were scheduled, I started to worry a bit. The more I thought about this, the more certain I was that by the time my registration request was processed, the Deuteronomy course would be filled with 2nd year students and this newbie would be passed over.
I was so excited when I received my schedule, and saw that I was enrolled in the Deuteronomy course.
Curious about the instructor and class size, I found the course information on the registrar's website. The course limit is 12 students and so far there are 11 remaining seats. It's been over a month. No one else has registered for the course. Hmm...What does everyone else know that I don't know?
(This is a reprint of a devotion I wrote for the CUMC website.)
When I was learning to drive, my Dad gave me the following words of wisdom: When you are driving on the expressway, if you use the brakes, someone made a mistake.
I still think of this advice and learn from it. Whenever on the expressway, if I use the brakes I ask myself, "who made the mistake?".
Usually it's me, following too closely to the car in front of me.
Sometimes the mistake is daydreaming instead of paying attention to the traffic around me. Sometimes it's another driver making one of these mistakes, and I have to brake as a result of them.
There are many checks that could be used to do the same thing for each day. What are the red flags that should make us ask "Did I make a mistake?"
In one of his books, John Ortberg describes calling a spiritual mentor to ask advice. After a long pause, the friend said, "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life."
Ortberg had his note pad out and in lightning speed he jotted that down. There was another long pause, and Ortberg became a little impatient, so he said: "Eliminate hurry from my life. That's good. I've got that. What else?"
Ortberg said that his mind was already sending anxiety signals to him about things that needed his attention, and this was a long-distance phone call and he wanted to cram as many units of spiritual wisdom
into the least amount of time possible.
Another long pause. "There is nothing else," the friend said. "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life."
John Ortberg's story reminds me of my Dad's driving advice. My response to hurrying should be the same as my response to braking on the expressway--whenever I hurry I need to ask myself "What's really going on? What's the real problem?"
Am I in a rush because I did not take the time to prepare adequately? Is that because I don't really care about that next appointment? Am I hurrying because deep down I really don't care about the person trying to talk to me?
Am I hurrying because I am self-absorbed in my own little world?
