Every Step An Arrival

“Desire without knowledge is not good, and whoever makes haste with his feet misses his way.” – Proverbs 19:2

“Oh, it’s not that easy, Lumiere. These things take time.” – Mrs. Potts, ‘Beauty and the Beast’

I read this in a New York Times article today: “Looking back, it’s hard to remember the exact moment we left the old world behind, and entered this new one. How did Ernest Hemingway describe going bankrupt — ‘gradually, and then suddenly’? Like that.” And I realized, that’s how most of us stumbled into this surreal new world: suddenly. And that’s about how fast we expect ourselves to be able to figure it out. There’s something to be said for grasping the bull by the horns: formulating the perfect homeschool schedule, stocking up on groceries and library books, getting the home office or digital platforms up-and-running.

But the fact is, this new reality we’re entering is so comprehensively different, and so potentially chronic, that it will take some time getting used to. It introduces entirely new work and financial pressures, new relational dynamics at home, new chore and errand and educational routines. I’m sure people who were working from home or homeschooling in the old world would tell us that it’s not as simple as plopping down in front of your computer in the living room, or coming up with some ideal class schedule. All of it takes time and figuring out. It takes talking out, rearranging spaces, calibrating expectations, on top of dealing with the emotional adjustment or grief of the change.

This is a matter of pacing, of, to borrow a phrase from Eugene Peterson, a “long obedience in the same direction.” When I race towards an outcome, when I don’t allow for time between steps, I miss everything that is important. Look at this verse in Proverbs: why are these two statements paired together? When we sprint, we think we are only heading faster towards our destination, but in fact we miss it altogether. Our desire for outcome has kept us from real knowledge, from the things we need to learn, the signs we need to look for, the change that needs to happen, for us to actually find our way.

Denise Levertov wrote a poem that ends this way: “nevertheless he / keeps moving, changing / pace and approach but / not direction – ‘every step an arrival.’” Peterson talks about this in his memoir The Pastor: “I recognized in her phrase a metaphor for my own formation as a pastor: every step along the way—becoming the pastor I didn’t know I was becoming and the person I now am, an essential component that was silently and slowly being integrated into a coherent life and vocation—an arrival.”

The integration of a coherent life in this new world happens slowly. Part of pacing ourselves is expecting that these adjustments will take time. Being gracious with failures and frustrations. Being humble and willing to revise our ideas. Finding the right questions to ask to help us learn. Realizing that every step, however feeble, however surprising, however unseen or unacknowledged, is an arrival. That the point is not necessarily to arrive at perfection but to live out a joyous obedience, a growing faith, a tangible gospel. One day at a time.