Discovering What Will Be
Trusting the process, embracing the suck, and letting your life unfold
I like to go fast.
When I’ve got somewhere to go, I quite prefer to move swiftly. Quickly. Speedily. Or, for the more educated, with haste. In fact, I am known in my family to be the impatient one, particularly when I’m behind the wheel of a car (or in a crowded baseball stadium). I’ve been known to exceed the speed limit. And, more rarely, to cut people off. Heck, my daughter (a 7 year old at the time) even learned the old-school term yahoos (as in “Get a move on, you yahoos!”) by being repeatedly exposed to her father’s driving habits (and colorful verbal outbursts). Now some of this quite honestly has to do with my penchant for running late for almost everything (apart from U2 concerts, Cubs games, tee times, or church). That’s a different post topic entirely. Some of it - especially when it comes to being behind the wheel, or navigating through a crowd - has to do with living in Chicago for nearly 20 years (I can still hear echoes of our high school cheer squad: “Be aggressive! Be, be aggressive!”). Most of it, however, is most likely grounded in my simply being bored by the journey.
Trusting the process.
The irony, of course (especially when I claim to – more often than not – take the road less traveled), is that enjoying the journey is what I continually preach to others, whether my team at work or at home with my kids. It’s not lost on me, in fact (now that I actually pause to think about it), that my son has heard me say one particular phrase so often throughout years of coaching him in life and baseball that he actually has a flag hanging on his bedroom wall that says, “Trust the process.”
You hear that phrase quite a bit in coaching circles. And I’ve certainly found it easy to recite when coaching players or advising others. After all, it just sounds and feels so timeless and true. But I’ve also found that it’s another thing altogether to attempt to do it yourself (at least for me). And there’s the rub. If you’re at all like me, you quite like the feeling that you’ve got it all together. That you’re on top of things. Making things happen and/or getting somewhere. I’d go as far as to suggest that that’s an elemental part of being human. And yet…still another part of being human (perhaps the more vital part), is attempting to do things that actually make you feel quite the opposite along the way. Where you have scant evidence of progress, and little choice but to trust the process (i.e., enjoy the journey).
As I reflect on it, to trust the process is to admit weakness. To acknowledge your inability in this present moment. And to embrace the circumstances you find yourself in rather than turning to fight (complaining) or flight (quitting). Instead, trusting the process means that you keep going even when you’re not yet seeing the fruit of your labors, or even when it seems like you’re not getting anywhere. And it means keeping the end (and your hope) in view as you struggle along the way – with the inevitable failures, setbacks, and disappointments that come with attempting to do anything of value. If you’re so focused on the destination (as I often can be), you can easily miss out on the important lessons and meaningful moments that can ultimately propel you forward by growing your character and building your strength – and faith. But let’s be honest here: that’s not exactly a popular perspective within our hustle culture, for sure. And if I’m even more honest, it’s not all that popular with me. Like I said, I much prefer going fast. But thankfully, life doesn’t usually work that way, does it?
Choosing slowness.
There’s a well known directive from God to the people of Israel in the Book of Psalms (i.e., “Songs”) where the lyric encourages them in the face of hardship to “be still and know that I am God.” Elsewhere, in the Bible’s book of wisdom (aptly named Proverbs), its readers are advised to “not be hasty and miss the way” (my paraphrase; a recent translation reads, “If you are too eager, you will miss the road”). Both ancient verses capture our dilemma well, conjuring images of a frantic lifestyle – one driven almost desperately to find solutions to a problem, make a preferred outcome happen, or reach the desired destination. In the face of this, both also challenge our estimation of our own abilities and force us to consider that we do not in fact know it all. In fact, both offer an alternative perspective grounded in the belief that something bigger is going on. That something more profound – yet often unseen – is taking place, if we will only slow ourselves down and avail ourselves to it.
During this season of my unemployment, this theme is particularly poignant. When I was first relieved of my duties, I was going to hit the ground running – planning, networking, and job board hopping – and was certain I’d have a new, bigger, better job in no time (as the saying goes, “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans”). Eight months in, however, I’m still looking for work and it’s moving pretty slow (and not wholly by choice). On one hand, there have been delays, setbacks, and disappointments – a weeks-long illness, dead-end networking leads, and repeated ghosting by companies and contacts, for instance. On the other hand, there have been blessings – from taking a much needed and restorative mini-sabbatical or being free to care for my daughter through a surgery and recovery to seeing our ongoing financial needs met in the nick of time and in amazing ways. Truly, almost nothing in this season has gone according to plan. Where I’ve wanted to run, I’ve been forced to walk – sometimes with a bit of a limp. None of it could have been foreseen.
Upon reflection, however, I’m beginning to see that I’ve been repeatedly faced with a choice (literally shouting at me on the floor of my gym’s running track – pictured above). Will I continue to attempt to run? Or will I accept what is and choose to walk? To pursue the former is to plow ahead regardless of the signs and signals that are being presented to you – as if you know where you’re actually going (because, let’s face it, to run well you must have a clearly marked course before you). But doing so, especially if the course is yet to be determined (or more accurately, revealed), can easily mean missing opportunities, or settling for far less (something I’ve done way too often in my life). Yet if, in a stroke of wisdom, you accept the latter – moving more slowly than you probably prefer – you are actually valuing yourself and investing in your future. You’re opening yourself to the insights and answers that can only come as you slow down, take it all in, and discern what it all means. And you’re giving time and space for yourself to prepare for the next phase of the race that lies ahead. My gut is, once you do, it will be time to be off and running.
So lately, I’ve been starting to accept the more leisurely pace – learning to accept what is and simply do what I can, while trusting the process will eventually open the path to what’s next. It’s not easy, that’s for sure. And I’ve had my fair share of one-sided arguments with God (which never actually change anything, funny enough). But already I sense an increased lightness and peace, with growing hope that better days are ahead.
TO PONDER
Embracing the slowness of this season, I’ve been asking myself the questions, “What am I to be learning during this time?” and “What is this telling me about the next phase of my journey?”
How might you answer those – especially if it’s “walking season”? Comment below, if you’re comfortable. Thanks!