How To Make A Pickle

The great poet John Milton gave us the phrase, “When I consider how my light is spent.” The elderly Milton wrote those words as he was going blind. He looked back on his life and pondered how he spent his time, his light, while he had it. Let’s examine how we spend our time. In a lifetime today’s average person spends11

six months sitting at traffic lights

eight months opening junk mail

one year searching through desk clutter

two years trying to call people who are not in

three years in meetings

five years waiting in lines

In a single day an average American will

commute forty-five minutes

be interrupted seventy-three times

receive six hundred advertising messages

watch four hours of television

No wonder we have the attention span of a ferret on a triple cappuccino. And what do we have to show for all of this added “productivity”? Health-related problems are skyrocketing and families spend less time together. In fact, the average working parent12 spends twice as long dealing with e-mail as playing with his or her children. In his excellent book In Praise of Slowness Carl Honoré tells how the book titled One-Minute Bedtime Stories13 came to be: “To help parents deal with time-consuming tots, various authors have condensed classic fairy tales into sixty-second sound bites.”

The most important aspects of our lives cannot be rushed. We cannot love, think, eat, laugh or pray in a hurry. Someone once said to me, “You know to spell love? T-I-M-E.” My children want my time more than anything else. My daughter, Hope, tells me that her favorite days are those we keep the sabbath in our home. We build forts, eat ice cream and play games. I play the guitar, and she loves it (no matter how often I miss a note, which is often). We cook meals together—no fast food! Giving her my time says “I love you. You are important.”

Taking time is especially important in our spiritual lives. In our spiritual life we cannot do anything important in a hurry.

When we are in a hurry—which comes from overextension—we find ourselves unable to live with awareness and kindness. Fortunately, God never calls us, as Richard Foster likes to say, “into a life of panting feverishness.” If we are overcommitted and in a hurry, we may feel like we’re being especially effective and that God is therefore proud of us. God knows quite well that our distracted and encumbered lives pull us away from the one thing we need the most.

Let’s go back to the story of Martha and Mary to see what Jesus might have to say about our panting feverishness. After Martha asked Jesus to admonish Mary for not helping with the chores, Jesus gently rebuked Martha: “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:41-42, italics added).

I say Jesus gently rebuked Martha because Jesus said her name twice, “Martha, Martha.” He does this because she doesn’t deserve harsh criticism. Martha means well. She is trying to serve her guests.

Most of us do not need to eliminate bad things from our lives in order to slow down and find balance: Which should I keep? Bible reading or recreational drug use? We must choose between multiple good activities. We simply do not have enough time to do all that we would like to do. When we add too many things to our lives, something has to be eliminated. Unfortunately, busy people often rid themselves of the most important ones: relationships, spiritual practices and self-care (for example, eating right and exercising).

Jesus told Martha, “There is need of only one thing.” That one thing is listening to Jesus. Jesus did not say that the “one thing” was to obey his commandments (though that will come). The first thing, the one needful thing, is to listen to his teachings. The world tries to pull us away from this important thing. Martha’s way was good, but Mary’s way was better. She looked at the situation and evaluated what was most important. Jesus was in her home, and being with him was the most important thing she could do.

Remember George Herbert’s poem (see here)? The soul says to God, “My dear, then I will serve.” And God responds, “You must sit down and taste my meat.” Martha was driven and distracted by the need to serve. In itself, service is not a bad thing, but it’s not always the best thing. At that time, on that day, the best thing Mary could have done was to sit at the feet of Jesus and listen. Too many of us are trying to serve God without listening to God. There will be time to serve, but listening to Jesus always takes precedence.

Jesus gives us the best example of a well-paced life. In the Gospels we see Jesus retreating to be alone (nine times in the Gospel of Luke alone). Jesus lives his life in perfect rhythm, the proper tempo, at all times. He will not be rushed. He never does anything in haste. I love this passage in Mark’s Gospel:

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons. (Mark 1:35-39)

Notice the balance of contemplation and action, or, in the words of John Wesley, “piety and mercy.” Before dawn Jesus goes off to a quiet place to pray. He spends time alone with his heavenly Abba.

Jesus lived a perfect life of balance between rest and action. Describe your “balance.”

But his disciples panic when they discover Jesus is missing, especially in light of all the work that must be done. “Where have you been?” asks Peter. Jesus simply responds, “Let’s go.” Without hesitation he proclaims the good news of the available kingdom, and demonstrates its power through signs and wonders. See the perfect balance? He rests and recreates, yet he also works and serves.

Jesus’ identity was deepened in periods of silence and solitude, in time alone with his heavenly Father. That was his secret to balancing contemplation and action, rest and labor. He knew who he was. And for those of us “in whom Christ dwells,” the rhythm should be the same. As we spend time in quiet and rest and contemplation, sitting at the feet of Jesus, we gain strength to act in wisdom in the hustle and bustle of a busy world. In slowing down we can hear the Spirit whisper that we are loved, and then we begin to reflect the glory of the Christ who is within us. We become the kind of people this frazzled and frightened world most needs.

When my friend John Ortberg took on a new and very demanding role in ministry, he called Dallas Willard for advice. With pen and notepad in hand, John was ready to write down a half dozen or more key things. Dallas began by saying, “Ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.” John wrote it down.

“Okay. What’s next?” queried John.

“There is no next. Just do that, John, and you’ll be fine.”

Dallas knew that John already had everything he needed to be effective in this new role. John is one of the most brilliant and most deeply committed Christ-followers I have ever met. He has a great grasp of the Bible, a thorough understanding of theology and ministry, years of practice in spiritual formation, and the Holy Spirit as his guide. John did not need any new insights or techniques. But he needed to overcome the number one enemy in the spiritual life: hurry sickness.

Why is eliminating hurry from our lives so crucial? When we eliminate hurry we become present, or more specifically, present to the present moment in all of its glory. We become aware of our surroundings. We see colors and smell smells; we hear hushed sounds and can actually feel the wind in our faces. In short, we “show up” and experience the fullness of life. And that includes, not least of all, being present to God. If I am to live well as a Christian, I need to be constantly connected to God. Hurry is not part of a well-lived life.

It is possible to act quickly without hurrying. If I have only ten minutes to get from one end of the airport to another, I can move quickly without hurrying. Hurry is an inner condition that is fear-based: “If I don’t make my plane everything will be ruined. Life as I know it is over!” But when I walk in step with God I learn to say, “If I don’t make that plane I’ll be fine. God is with me. Things will work out. Meanwhile, I’ll move my legs as fast as I can while my heart is happy and unhurried.”

“Hurry,” said Carl Jung,14 “is not of the Devil; it is the Devil.” When hurried, we cannot experience life at its fullest; nor can we come into contact with our true selves, our real feelings. And even more important, we outrun God. When we slow down we allow ourselves to be found, found by life and found by God. When we practice slowing down, we are moving into the rhythm of God. When we eliminate hurry (our part, in response to God’s gracious call to the deeper life), the Spirit comes alongside us and strengthens us.

One day, in the midst of my effort to slow down and become present, I decided to take an afternoon to try to live “deliberately,” as Henry David Thoreau put it. It was an unseasonably warm mid-February day, so I sat in an Adirondack chair in my backyard. Of course, the leaves had long ago fallen, but one bushy tree really stood out. Normally, I would never have paid much attention to this tree, and given the time of year I would not have spent more than a few minutes in the backyard. But there it was, and it had my full attention.

After a few minutes I noticed something strange about this tree in addition to its leaves: it had lots of tiny grape-like berries. I began to wonder why it was full of berries at this time of the year. Because I had been in and out of prayer that afternoon, I turned my attention to God and asked, “God, why is this tree full of berries?” Right on cue a little bird, the size of a finch, flew to the tree, skewered a berry and flew to a nearby bush where it dined. The Spirit whispered, “That is why the tree is full of berries.”

It was as if the Sermon on the Mount was being preached in my backyard. “Look at the birds of the air and how they neither sow nor reap but are fed by their Father in the heavens” (see Matthew 6:26). But the sermon was not over. The Spirit then led me to consider just how many berries were on that tree. There were thousands. And then I was led to consider how small those little birds are, so small they could fit in the palm of my hand. The point: God has provided more for them than they will ever need. The application: when we live with the good and beautiful God, we have access to more than we will ever need.

Have you ever had an experience like the berry-filled tree, where you stopped and paid attention to your surroundings and discovered something wonderful? Describe that experience.

It was a powerful sermon that I would have missed had I not been “foolish” enough to step off the achievement treadmill and plant myself in the middle of my backyard for an hour. Robin Myers writes, “In every waking hour15 a sacred theater is in session, played out before an audience that is largely blind.” I want to see this sacred theater every day of my life. I don’t want to miss all that God has in store.

This treasure is only found in the present moment. As authors Richard Bailey and Joseph Carlson explain, “Life is really nothing more16 than a series of present moments—one right after the other—to be experienced. . . . You are always living in this moment: will you live it present or absent?” I want to be present. (Isn’t it ironic that the word present is the word we use for gift?)

Not only do I need to slow down to grow in my spiritual life, I also need to realize that spiritual growth is a slow process. Making pickles is an apt analogy to the way we grow as disciples. To make a pickle we first need to get a cucumber. Then we need to create the brine and vinegar solution for soaking the cucumber. If we dip the cucumber in the solution and quickly pull it out, all we will have is a baptized cucumber. In order for it to become a pickle, it needs to soak in the brine for six weeks or so. Slowly and imperceptibly, the solution works its way into the cucumber, changing it to a pickle.

Making pickles takes six weeks, but making an apprentice of Jesus takes much longer. The great preacher Graham Scroggie wrote, “Spiritual renewal is17 a gradual process. All growth is progressive, and the finer the organism, the longer the process.” Human beings are finer organisms than cucumbers; there are many factors involved in our transformation. My mind, emotions and body are multifaceted. The human soul is a massive entity that changes very slowly.

I love the old story told by A. H. Strong:

A student asked the President18 of his school whether he could not take a shorter course than the one prescribed. “Oh yes,” replied the President, “but then it depends on what you want to be. When God wants to make an oak, He takes a hundred years, but when He wants to make a squash, He takes six months.”

Strong goes on to explain that spiritual growth, in addition to being slow, is not uniform. Some years we may experience tremendous growth, and some we see very little change. An oak tree has only a couple of months of actual growth each year in terms of measurable expansion, says Strong. The rest of the year, the other ten months, are spent solidifying that growth.

In Outliers Malcolm Gladwell shares his discoveries about exceptional people—those who lie outside the norm. Though it seems some people are born with exceptional talent, Gladwell’s research led him to conclude:

The emerging picture19 from studies is that ten thousand hours of practice is required to achieve the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert in anything. . . . In study after study of composers, basketball players, chess players, master criminals and what have you, this number comes up again and again. . . . It seems that it takes the brain this long to assimilate all that it needs to know and achieve true mastery.

He cites Mozart as an example. Most people know that Mozart was composing music at the age of six. But Gladwell points out that he was not composing good music at six. His first good work was produced at age twenty-one, after fifteen years of hard work, and his best work was not written until his late twenties. Music critic Harold Schonberg actually said that, in this sense, Mozart “developed late”!20

To become proficient at something takes a lot of time. But if someone wants to be exceptional, they need to put in ten thousand hours of practice. Please don’t be discouraged by this! I share it only to put the process of transformation into proper perspective. Many Christians hope that within a few months of starting a Bible study or beginning a new prayer practice, they will see dramatic change. When they see little change, they usually feel they did something wrong or didn’t try hard enough and discouragement sets in.

The truth is this: whatever we do to change, even the smallest steps, have an effect on us. Reading this book carefully and working to replace false narratives with the narratives of Jesus will help us make significant steps toward change. I am certain that the Holy Spirit comes alongside us and renovates our soul when we earnestly engage in the spiritual training exercises. But we must not expect massive changes overnight.

For example, I have been working on these narratives and engaging in these practices for over twenty-five years, and yet I remain a work in progress. But every month of every year I have seen positive growth in my life with God. Be encouraged. Change is slow, but it does take place. For many of you the change is already beginning. God is doing a good work in you, and you know it. Be confident that this is the beginning of new life in Christ. You must not have confidence in this or any other book, but in the good and beautiful God who is at work in you and has a plan for your life: “I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

This book was written to help you fall in love with the God Jesus knows. We cannot enter into a deeper life with God unless we know and love him. This chapter is a hinge between this book and a second volume, The Good and Beautiful Life, which follows the same pattern as this one: replacing false narratives and engaging in spiritual disciplines that help embed new narratives in our souls. This second volume deals with areas of human failure, such as anger, lying, lust and worry. What Jesus says about these things is opposed to the narratives we hear from the world.

Once we have begun to “pickle” in Jesus’ narratives about God, we can examine our own hearts and lives. Now that we have come to know the good and beautiful God, we are invited to the good and beautiful life. In the meantime, we must slow down and allow the narratives of Jesus to settle into our heart, mind and soul.