Good Things Take Time

when the labor is part of the gift

Good things take time.

I’ve heard this expression my whole life but I’m only really understanding it now.

See, I like being quick, and generally, I am.

I like getting things done quickly.

I write quickly.

I speak quickly.

I process my emotions quickly.

I don’t procrastinate and I don’t like to waste time.

If things can be done fast, I want them to be done fast.

I noticed this pattern especially as I’m preparing my various sermons and messages for this summer. I had eleven to prepare, amongst other responsibilities. But I tried not to be too worried because I knew I was a quick thinker and writer. I figured the words would flow and the Spirit would lead.

But while in some ways, the words did flow and the Spirit did lead, I found the whole process taking much longer than I expected.

I’d spend hours upon hours at the cafe for the past several weeks researching, learning, thinking, praying, and writing.

It was far from a quick process.

And that stressed me out.

At one point, as I worked on the same sermon for what seemed like 72 hours in a row, I thought I was just incapable and inadequate at sermon prepping.

Things never take me this long, I kept telling myself.

Well, just yesterday, I met up with a pastor I look up to greatly. His name is Pastor Wayne. He retired a few years ago after serving faithfully in ministry for over forty years. He shared with me that in a given year, he might preach up to forty-five sermons or something crazy like that.

And I’ve heard Pastor Wayne preach.

He is incredible.

I sat in awe at the sheer volume of sermons he’s produced over the years and, with a slight sigh of disappointment and curiosity, I said to him, “I’m sure it got a lot easier over time, right? I’m sure you can just whip out a sermon so quickly now.”

He chuckled and said, “No, actually, they still take me a long time.”

I asked him how long and he said that for one sermon, he’ll spend a minimum of twenty hours laboring over it, sometimes even if he has already preached on the exact same passage before.

As he described his process of labor over these sermons, even up to the present day as he continues to guest speak, I could tell the sacredness of his practice.

These weren’t just manuscripts he was drafting or outlines he was whipping out.

These were carefully and intentionally handled sermons that he spent hours upon hours crafting and praying over.

What struck me wasn’t that Pastor Wayne still spent twenty hours on a sermon after forty years of ministry.

What struck me was that he wanted to.

Somewhere along the way, he had learned that the labor wasn’t the obstacle to good preaching.

The labor was part of the gift.

Maybe this is obvious for any pastor. I admit that I have many questions as I enter my first role in “official” pastoral ministry this fall.

But I’m realizing more and more that good things take time.

It takes a long time to age a wine.

It takes a long time to raise a child.

It takes time for a seed to grow into an oak tree.

These processes might not seem efficient because they aren’t quick.

But they’re beautiful.

And the end result is something that could have only been produced with time, intentionality, and care.

A good sermon, a faithful sermon, takes time.

And so I’m learning to sit in the “inefficiency.”

The restlessness within me that wants to hurry up and get to the next thing because there’s always so much to do.

The impatience within me that wants things to be done as quickly as possible.

The college student in me that just wants to get things done.

And I’m slowly finding the beauty of sitting with the most beautiful text in the world.

Not to hurry up and get words on the paper.

But to be transformed myself through the power of intentional presence every time I sit down to write and work.

I pray my work would never lose its wonder.

“One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.” —Psalm 27:4

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