For the Love of God, Slow Down

I was serving lunch at Applebee's the other day, and I had a couple sit in my section. They were probably in their 70's and it soon became apparent that the man was recovering from a stroke. He walked slowly and gingerly to his booth, talked slowly, very softly, and stuttered.

They ordered their drinks and I brought them out, then they said they needed some more time to look over the menu. I came back a few minutes later and he was still looking. I came back a third time and we was still studying his options. Finally, he ordered a chicken salad on the fourth visit.

When their food came out he took literally 30 minutes to eat his salad. And he was eating the entire time.

While they were eating, all around them suits having business lunches, and nurses on their lunch hour, and soccer moms with their kids hurried through their meals rushing in and out, sometimes in less than a half an hour. It was a sad scene.

Afterwards, as I was reflecting on the juxtaposition of the two extremes, the inevitable "what ifs" came to my mind. Then my attention turned to this man's wife. She appeared to be in perfectly good health. But I don't remember her moving any faster, being ready to order any sooner, or eating any quicker. She had slowed herself down to his pace--literally a snails pace. She was having a great time, it seemed. She did it joyfully & patiently. I don't ever remember her trying to rush, apologizing or trying to explain why they were moving so slow. She just had lunch with her husband.

What an amazing act of love. The dignity and respect she gave her husband over lunch by simply slowing down with him.

I thought about my little 21 month old daughter, Ella, and how often I hurry her along, tell her to move faster or sweep her up to get to wherever I am going. I get so frustrated and impatient and anxious. And she is doing absolutely nothing wrong. She could do no different. What if I just slowed down to her pace more often? I would get a lot less done, to be sure, but how much love could I show her by experiencing life with her at her speed?

Yesterday I was on a walk with her out at Turk Lake and caught myself hurrying her along. So I slowed down. We walked slow, uncomfortably slow for me. But Ella had a ball, she discovered dandelions and acorns for the first time, saw swans and waved "hi" to people and talked to her daddy about who knows what. It took us about 45 minutes to go about a half a mile, but my daughter knew that her daddy loved her, that I was willing to live in her world.

It is going to be a challenge to make this a lifestyle change, I have failed many times already with Ella, but I am already thinking through what kind of effects this would have on my other relationships, ministry, church, etc. And the whole time I feel like Jesus is saying, "Don't move too fast for the 'least of these.'"

A chance to get away

Julie and I had an opportunity to go up north to Petosky for a couple days without the kids this week. This was our first time leaving Liam with someone else over night. We came back refreshed and more in love with each other and with our kids.

A couple of observations:

We traveled 3 hours to do basically what we could have done within thirty minutes of home: we went to a movie, played miniature golf, saw a sunset on Lake Michigan, spent time in the pool and hot tub, watched ESPN, slept in, ate at some great restaurants . . . and I think the most important thing we did was travel three hours to do it.

We spent the three our trip up in nearly complete silence. Julie slept some, read some. I listened to some music, then turned it down and just drove through the alleys of pine trees up 131. It was decompression. After a great time together, the three hour trip home was spent in engaging conversation, some deeply personal stuff and some practical problem-solving marriage stuff. It was re-entry.

I think the trip was also good because it put real distance between us and all things familiar. Our life has been in "challenging" mode since the New Year, and there is perpetually one more thing to do than can be done. I have regularly borrowed Covey's phrase to describe it: The urgent gets in the way of the important. It turns out Space was the savior for the Important. I got myself away and I heard my wife. I heard God. I cherished my kids. Vision and passion were restored.

That is the essence of Sabbath, isn't it? Space to restore vision and passion. Because while the worship we offer with our lives is hard and constant, it is driven by this deep desire to see the Kingdom of God happen among us. Without Sabbath, what should be worship simply becomes work. Then we use what once was Sabbath for escape. We use this space we are given to hide from what is pounding us rather than to go after what can empower us, namely this restoration that we so desperately need.

This, to me, is a real flaw of the American Church. What we do on Sunday has little to do with Sabbath, and we have not discipled our communities to practice a Sabbath reality in their lives. What does Sabbath even look like for a faith community anymore? Can it be practiced corporately or is it an individual or family thing? I'm not sure I have any good answers; it took a three hour drive up the coast for me even to ask the question.

Life update - Facts only

So, since it has been 6 months since my last post, I suppose it is appropriate to get the whole "how is everything" stuff out of the way so I can move on to talking to myself again.



On Dec. 22, Liam Garett Price was born. That is our son. He was four weeks early, but all was and continues to be well. He is four months old now and is one happy baby.


Ella is almost 21 months old. She is a whirling dervish of babble and sass. Her favorite words are "juice," "ball," "outside," "more," "pas"(pacifier), "bell" (her stuffed duck), "sas" (SAM), and "hi." She loves her alphabet books, climbing, bath time, pretending with her dolls, and playing ball--especially with Josh T. Her favorite television shows are sesame Street, Dora the Explorer, and Blues Clues. And she can almost get a Veggie Tales video started by herself.


Our little puppy, Samwise the Brave, is now a 80 lb. coward who enjoys digging, chewing, and letting Ella smother him with hugs and kisses.


I am working as a server/bartender/expediter at Applebee's, trying to break into management. I have been their since January and I am getting impatient. Julie continues to work in Labor & Delivery, but is now working weekends only. Nice for the family but stinks for church and travel. We are taking a Spanish class together sponsored by the hospital and it has been a lot of fun.

City Life, our church, has been up and down but we continue to remain optimistic that it is where we are supposed to be right now. Our housemates, Gretchen and Josh are both making plans for the next stage of their lives and should be moving out near the end of this month.

The house has had multiple repair/renovations done in the last few months including a new deck & patio door, a new furnace & water heater (not by our choice), all new windows, and some more insulation in the attic. In the next 6 weeks the roof is being replaced and that should end our home improvement work for the next couple years. Up next . . . The yard!

It's been a busy six months. Now that we have that out of the way, I can feel better about focusing on my innerspace.

A new beginning

Have you ever noticed that when you sin, have a fight, wrong someone, or just fall out of touch, the longer you wait to right the wrong the harder it is? It's this strange tension between pride and shame, isn't it? I suck at admitting failure. That is my excuse for waiting this long to start writing again.

In the rest of my life this reality has often centered around my depression. I think I have a good groove going and then one day I sleep in until 2:00pm and never get out of my pajamas. Then one day turns into two and before I know it, I am avoiding all of my responsibilities, hiding from the world under my blankets, and making excuses for why I have this "general malaise."

I know my depression is real and has a physiological element, so I am not saying that funks aren't going to happen. But I just think it is interesting how much this shame/pride pressure makes it all the more difficult to get out of it. I am so concerned with how people perceive me that if I am going down, I have to go rock bottom so they actually feel sorry for me. Pity is better than judgment, I reason. Of course none of this is consciously done--I am just reacting to the fear inside me.

The interesting thing is that I do have a way of breaking out of it. I simply perform an "Extreme Ben Makeover" and that jumpstarts the growth cycle again. Seriously. One of my favorites is shaving my head or beard. Or I will rearrange furniture or wash the dog. Anything to make a noticeable change in my life.

So it is with this blog, I gave it a paint job, updated some links, gave it a more appropriate purpose statement. Hopefully this will do the trick and I will start writing again.

At least until I miss a week . . .