“But Jacob said to him, “My lord knows that the children are tender and that I must care for the ewes and cows that are nursing their young If they are driven hard just one day, all the animals will die. So let my lord go along ahead of his servant, while I move at the pace of the flocks and herds before me and the pace of the children until i come to my lord in Seir.” (Genesis 33:13-14 NIV)
It’s no secret that I love to walk. It’s probably of my favorite ways to pray, worship, think, fellowship, and try to make sense of the story unfolding. I typically wear my apple watch on my outings. It tracks my location and steps, but it also marks my pace. My average speed? Three miles an hour.
I read it in a book years back, how we have a three-mile-an-hour God. The author supported his statement with empirical proof of Jesus’ travelogue amidst His earthly ministry. All the recorded miles of Savior were on foot, save the last donkey ride into Jerusalem. The Savior’s perfect pace? Three miles an hour. He moved at the speed of His people. He walked in a manner that His followers could keep.
If I’m being forthright, sometimes His pace kills me. When we are traipsing through wilderness, and I’m wondering when we’ll find abundance or clear purpose again, my flesh can get frustrated. I’ve been caught complaining, “Lord, why are we still here? Can’t we get moving already?” Yet in the sweet seasons, I tend to drag my feet, reluctant to head out into crisis again.
This morning I’m a fly on the flap of Jacob’s tent as he reacquaints himself with his long-estranged brother. The two men run, bow, weep, embrace and reconcile. Then, when their emotions are spent and their stories have been recited, Esau extends an invitation to Jacob: “Let us be on our way.” And Jacob graciously declines. Why? The flocks and the children will surely perish at Esau’s pace. Jacob could go, but it would cost him dearly.
Jacob was a recovering narcissist and he was finally beginning to see the lives beyond his own. He realized that his decisions affected the outcomes of others. He was gaining the heart of God and it’s obvious in this text. Jacob was willing to slow down for the sake of his kids.
God has limited His pace for the very same reason. Our three-mile-an-hour God is capable of moving much faster, but it is His will that none would perish. In His endless compassion, He remembers that we are mud. In mercy and affection, He sets His pace according to our frailties. He doesn’t want to arrive without us.
“The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. Instead He is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but every to come to repentance.” (2 Peter 3:9 NIV)
Lord, forgive us for imposing our agenda and pace upon You. How quickly we forget Your compassion. How easily we lose sight of Your wisdom. Today we commit to go at Your gait, concerned with proximity over pace. Keep us close to You. Amen.