The Church that Never Sleeps.

Recovering from urgency culture.

I reflected in my weekly email recently on the first time I read the writing of Bayo Akomolafe. His article started with "The times are urgent, let us slow down" quoting an African proverb.

You can see the piece I was reading here. It's a thought provoking delight alongside a warm drink and a comfy spot in the sun*. "Slowing down is about meeting the sensuous.” 

I mean, you have me at hello with writing like that.

You may know I spent much of my career working in the humanitarian sector. This space holds many of our best adrenaline addicts, people running, responding, advocating, driving activism. 

And as Bayo says, "an invitation to ‘slow down", seems like the wrong thing to do when there’s fire on the mountain."

What stands out to me also, is this. The humanitarian sector was another expression of urgency culture, so familiar to me from years in church ministry.

I spent decades as an active member of “the church that never sleeps” and then a decade more in other similar, churches whose twitchy-eyed and burnt out leadership shared the same ethos. I had chronic fatigue, glandular fever and migraines during that time and felt wrung out for so long.

Humanitarians are often exhausted, frazzled, stuck way up in the red zone of flight and flight, often crashing down into orange, freeze energy. Then picking themselves up to do it all again, no time, no sense of it being ok or allowed, to come back into the lovely, green, spacious energy of grounded, connected, calm. There's too much at stake! So much need! Wrongs to right!

Church members are often stuck in that same cycle. Serving, volunteering with starchy smiles, “we get to do this” while trying to convince themselves they’re not bone tired and undervalued, and we don’t use the word exploited in polite company. Living for the cause with urgent energy, creating the conditions for revival, growth, excellence and an amazing Sunday are the focus.

The word saviourism often comes to mind when I think of the frenetic pace of both spaces. The heavy weight of justice-seeking in one and eternal salvation in the other.

I wonder, when will it be enough?

Is the freedom and abundant life we’re working to secure for others, also available to us?

What are the messages we have absorbed about running fast, achieving, always being “on” - are these tied up in our identity and value?

What are the messages we have absorbed about rest, play, sleep, stillness, time for ourselves?

I would break out in a sweat at the thought of having to say no, or put a boundary in place with others. Slower days would send me into a panic at first, who will save the day if not me? Isn’t it my job, my calling, my responsibility? I had to learn pacing, conditioning for rest and recovery.

The badge of honour that comes with being part of any organisation that “never sleeps” is costly. Creativity comes from stillness, our best ideas for humanity, from a place of connection and groundedness.

The treadmill being demanded of us can lead to burnout and disillusionment, high people turnover and regret. The invitation is to slow down and see what rises to the surface. If that feels scary, that's information too.

We carry patterns with us through life until we can change them. I must resist these patterns still. Permit myself and make room for, a slower pace to think and feel and create and rest. 

From under the doona, where I am warm and comfy, allowing myself softness,

Jane

*Here’s a snippet

Slowing down is thus about lingering in the places we are not used to.
Seeking out new questions.
Becoming accountable to more than what rests on the surface.
Seeking roots.