The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry

Psalm 127 puts two pictures side by side. One is a crew of builders and a night watchman, working hard. The other is a person who rises early, goes to bed late, and eats "the bread of anxious toil." The psalm does not say work is bad. It says work done without the LORD is "in vain," and then it ends on a surprise: "for he gives to his beloved sleep."

That surprise is a good doorway into the foreword. John Ortberg opens with private notes left by Dallas Willard. In Ortberg's telling, those notes tie hurry to an anxious scramble, one fed by insecurity and a dread of falling short. That changes the question. Hurry may not start with a full calendar. It may start with fear. If I am afraid I won't measure up, speed feels like safety. Ortberg says the payoff of being freed from that scramble is steadier, gladder work on what truly counts. Psalm 127 makes a similar promise. It does not offer a smaller life, only a life without the anxious toil.

Ortberg also treats choosing an unhurried life as a risky step of trust. It costs something, and it pays off in deeper wealth. Sleep in the psalm is that kind of trust. When you lie down with the city still unwatched by you, you are admitting that someone else is God. He sets that beside a plain observation: we reach for our phones all day, yet God rarely crosses our minds. Try counting both today. He reads Ephesians 5:16, where Paul talks about making the best of the time, as a reminder that real life happens inside time, and that frenzy wastes it.

Then comes the prologue, where Comer tells his own story. He was a pastor of a growing multisite church, preaching six times in one Sunday, and he felt numb, anxious, and spiritually hollow. He began asking what kind of person he was turning into. He came to see that ministry success could sit right beside failing to follow Jesus. He stepped down to lead one smaller city church, took a sabbatical, started therapy, worked fewer hours, and practiced Sabbath. Even so, he describes the detox from a life of speed as slow and uneven.

Two cautions from the prologue matter. Comer says the book offers no quick fix or life hack. He also admits his story is not everyone's, including single parents and executives, so you are not asked to copy his exit. What he offers instead is borrowed from Jesus's life and teaching, along with an invitation to weary readers to take Jesus's easy yoke (Matthew 11:28-30).

Ortberg closes his foreword with a simple invitation: slow your breathing, set your devices aside, and let God carry the world. Start there. If you feel numb or empty more than tired, tell a pastor, counselor, or trusted friend. You do not have to sort that out alone.