Jesus, could you walk a little faster?

Finding Pace is connected to finding your Peace

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.” - Jesus (Eugene Peterson paraphrase)

MANY OF US ARE ANXIOUS AND….. 👀

Restless. That’s the word. I think it perfectly describes so many of us walking this earth, believers included.

Me and you? Were Restless..

Is it just me or do we all feel like we need more hours in our day? We’re moving and moving, but the goal still seems to be the same distance away!!

I think Augustine nailed it centuries ago with his profound observation:

“our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.”

It’s the tension we live in—a soul-deep restlessness we keep trying to outrun, out-buy, or out-achieve. And yet, we come up empty, over,

And over,

And over,

Again.

We’re always chasing rest, aren’t we? Ask anyone—they’ll tell you they could always use a vacation. But let’s be honest, half the time, we come back from those vacations more drained than we were before we left.

It’s not just vacations; it’s everything. We’re caught in a cycle of chasing the next big thing, convinced that if we can just get that one thing, we’ll finally be okay. 

I just need a new house—something with a lot more square footage, you know, for the kids. Or maybe it’s a trip to Europe—I hear Copenhagen is beautiful. Or maybe a cruise. Or maybe a better-paying job to afford it all.

Maybe I need more followers and influence, you know, for the gospel.

Don’t forget the hobbies. Have you seen what I’m into now? Bread-making—sourdough, of course. Or maybe it’s keto this week. No, wait—carnivore. Actually, I’m all about pour-over coffee… until I decide I need a $2,000 espresso machine because the pour-over wasn’t quite right.

Actually I need Diamonds. Gold. Couture. Breakfast at Tiffanys please, I love Audrey! I need Farmland. Off-grid living. Did you know the government is probably spying on me right now? And Instagram? Oh, it’s listening too. By tomorrow, my feed will be filled with ads for everything I’ve mentioned—Audrey Hepburn-inspired diamonds, plots of land in the middle of nowhere, and state-of-the-art off-grid solar panels. 

Let me whisper something in your ear; “It’s like the algorithm knows me better than I know myself”..

 It doesn’t matter if it’s sparkling or rustic—whatever it is, it’s got to be next.

Whoosh.

Honestly, I’m restless just writing this.

We leap from one thing to another, hoping each new pursuit will be the one to finally satisfy, to finally fill the emptiness. But it doesn’t, does it?

Deep down, we know it doesn’t. And yet, we pile on more. 

The result? Less peace, less contentment, less joy.

Could it be that we’ve mistaken abundance for fulfillment? Could it be that in chasing all these new things, we’ve lost sight of the One who makes all things new?

Jesus, could you walk a little faster?

Instead of chasing and running, and being restless, maybe we can find a way to walk in peace? 

I once heard a preacher say “our peace is actually tied to our pace”.

Let me repeat that, maybe your peace is connected to your pace.

I love that part of the paraphrase of Matthew 11:29 in The Message:

“Walk with me, work with me—watch how I do it.”

That right there—that’s a beautiful invitation.

Eugene Peterson does a masterful job at poetically summarizing Jesus’ actual call to take His yoke, the one He promises is easy and light.

A yoke wasn’t just a metaphor—it was a real, tangible, agricultural tool. A wooden beam placed over the shoulders of two oxen, binding them together so they could plow the fields in unison. But here’s what’s fascinating: farmers didn’t yoke two young, inexperienced oxen together. That would be counterproductive. Instead, they paired a strong, seasoned ox with a younger, restless one.

Why?

Because the young ox, full of energy, would exhaust itself too quickly. It would try to sprint, pushing ahead in a burst of strength, but without wisdom, it would burn out fast. The older ox, however, knew the rhythm. It had endurance. It understood the necessity of a sustainable pace.

It’s no mystery that in heaven, there are four living creatures surrounding the throne of God—each one representing a facet of who He is: A lion symbolizing His kingship, His authority, the Lion of Judah who reigns with power. An eagle representing His divinity, soaring high above all, unbound by the constraints of the earthly. A man pointing to His humanity, His nearness, His incarnation, God with us in the flesh. And an ox—the servant, the burden-bearer, the One who carries the weight of the world upon His shoulders.

The ox moves at the pace of eternity, not the rush of culture. And when we are yoked to Jesus, we move with Him—not ahead of Him, not frantically behind, but with Him. This is what the Pharisees never understood. The ox is not in a hurry. The ox is steady, consistent, unwavering. And Jesus, the true Servant-King, carries the weight we were never meant to bear. And He is inviting us to walk alongside Him—not just to carry the load, but to learn His pace.

Because let’s be honest—we are a restless people. Always running. Always hurrying. Always pushing for the next thing, convinced that peace is just around the corner if we can work harder, achieve more, or finally get ahead. But Jesus is never in a hurry. You’ll never see Him sprinting in the Gospels. He’s not rushing to the next meeting, not cramming in more speaking engagements, not trying to squeeze three years of ministry into two. He moves with deliberate, unhurried grace. And He invites us to do the same. If we want peace, we have to find His pace. If we want rest, we have to trust His rhythm. If we want to live deeply, fully, abundantly, we have to stop trying to outrun grace and start walking in step with the One who never burns out.

So the question is: are you walking with Him, or just running ahead and hoping He catches up?

Jesus’ words in John 10:10 echo in the emptiness: “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” The abundance He speaks of isn’t tied to vacations, couture, or the perfect keto loaf. It’s the kind of abundance that flows from a heart at rest in Him—the only One who can satisfy our restless souls.

Contentment! 

Now there’s an unsexy word. It doesn’t sell books or launch ad campaigns. I’ve never heard a sermon on contentment, never read a book on it, contentment sometimes feels alot like settling. Like waving the white flag and saying, I guess this is good enough. It doesn’t have the allure of ambition or the adrenaline of chasing the next big thing. It’s not sexy, but maybe—just maybe—it’s sacred. Contentment is not about giving up on dreams or denying the desire for growth. It’s about finding peace in the present while holding unto those dreams with open hands. It’s about choosing gratitude over greed, joy over jealousy, and rest over restlessness. 

Restless striving 

Now let’s get back to the issue at hand, this book is also about the current state of the church of Jesus, and to be honest the church at large hasn’t been immune to all of this restlessness. If anything, we’ve institutionalized it.  

Somewhere along the way, we traded the simplicity of knowing and following Jesus for a system that measures success with all the wrong metrics: How much influence do we have? How many people are we reaching? How many views, follows, and reactions? How many are crying or responding? If you're a pastor then it’s about attendance, giving, online engagement, and building projects. Don’t get me wrong—none of these things are inherently bad. Influence, a thriving online presence, full rooms, healthy budgets, and even a new sanctuary can all be signs of growth, even blessings. But here’s the problem: when those metrics become the end goal instead of the byproduct of a Christ-centered community, something crucial gets lost. We lose the essence. We miss the mark. The church, instead of standing as a countercultural beacon of rest and security in Christ, has too often joined the cultural restlessness of the world. We’ve adopted its rhythms, its anxieties, its obsessions. Endless competing. Constant comparison. The relentless need to be seen. The hunger for relevance. And even more, worst of all—we’ve spiritualized these things.

We’ve baptized ambition and called it faith. Jesus didn’t call us to build our own empires or chase clout or numbers. He called us to make disciples for Him, not ourselves (more on that later) (Matthew 28:19), to love Him above all things, to love one another as He has loved us (John 13:34), to take up our crosses and follow Him (Luke 9:23). These are the measures of a church that reflects His heart. Our numbers can tell us how many follow us, or  are in the room, but they can’t tell us how many lives are truly being transformed. Building projects might show expansion, but do they reveal a deeper reliance on God? Online engagement might signal influence, but does it foster true community? We’re at risk of creating churches that look successful on paper but are spiritually hollow. Churches that attract crowds but don’t make disciples. Churches that build big but don’t build deep.