When Life Won't Slow Down

Learning to rest and pray (And a poem about it)

Hello!

Before we jump into today’s post … welcome!

My name is Tanner. I am an author, spoken word poet, and speaker. Every week I share a few hopeful poems, prayers, and reflections. If you enjoy the words I share, I’d love to have you support this ministry at the monthly, annual, or founding member level.

When Life Won’t Slow Down

The past few days have been non-stop.

You too?

Yesterday, I finally slowed down. I unpacked my bag from a week of travel, stepped barefoot into the backyard, and just breathed.
I listened.
I talked quietly to God.

Life’s been a lot lately. And by “lately,” I mean the last 35 years. But especially these past two months.
The release of All the Things I Say to God.
The speaking events.
The keeping up.
The traveling.
The tornado.
The launch of Wednesday Poetry Club.
All the small things and big things and other things that come with all the things.

But standing there in the backyard, I remembered something I always forget:
Slow down.
Everything is going to be okay.
You’re here.
You’re alive.
Be.

Still, there's this voice in my head that won’t let go: Always be doing something.
I love being productive, I really do. But I don’t always need to be doing.
Maybe I just need to end the sentence early: Always be.

Yeah, I know, it sounds a little hippy-dippy.
But I’m here for it.

In the Gospels, Jesus is always inviting people to be with him. To slow down. To rest in his presence.

And I’m always trying to go. If I had been one of the twelve disciples, there would be countless stories about how Tanner was always trying to be productive instead of being with Jesus.

“One evening, after a long day of ministry and travel, the disciples and Jesus were resting by the fire. Jesus pointed out that even the sun rests—melting into the horizon with the most beautiful goodbye that would soon be followed by a hello. But Tanner, one of the twelve, said, ‘Jesus, shouldn’t we be productive? There is so much we should be doing. We’re only here for a minute.”

And that’s when Jesus rolled his eyes.”

Something like that.

So here I am, reminding both of us of the two things I’m learning to build my life around:
Prayer and Rest.

To make space for the One who still says, “Come to me, and I will give you rest.”
And to accept that invitation.

Yes, life has been a lot.
And I think it’s going to keep being a lot.
There will still be all the small things and big things and other things that come with all the things.

But I’m learning this:
The weight doesn’t always change, but how I carry it does.

And it gets lighter with rest.
It gets lighter with prayer.

At least, that’s what I’m discovering.
One day at a time.

From a recent Instagram post

Come Back to Yourself

A poem

Put down your phone, that lifeline-turned-leash.
Step outside.
Shoes off.
Bare feet on welcoming ground.
Let the grass preach peace to your skin.
Let the air touch your face,
like it’s trying to tell you you’re still alive.
You are.

Come back to yourself.
You’ve been somewhere else, haven’t you?
Buried under lists,
lost in endless headlines,
suffocating under the pace of it all.

Let yourself breathe.
Slower.
Slower still.
And then slower again.
Because rushing won’t resurrect you.

Drop the weight your shoulders are carrying.
It’s heavy, isn’t it?
This whole thing:
Living.
Waiting.
Enduring.
Trying to hold it all together
when you hardly know what “together” means anymore.

Silence the noise.
Not just outside, but in.
Turn the volume down on the fear.
On the “what ifs.”
On the “not enoughs.”
Cut through the static.
And listen.

Listen.

Do you hear it?
The birds,
the wind,
the whisper in the leaves?

They're singing something ancient.
Something holy.
Creation hasn’t forgotten how to worship.
Maybe we just forgot how to listen.

Remember:
Not your failure.
Not your fear.

But this:
faithfulness,
love,
forgiveness,
heaven,
the empty tomb,
grace upon grace upon grace.

Look around.
Goodness, right there beside you.
Mercy, moving in the margins.
Life is still happening, still unfolding,
even here,
especially here.

So be still in the silence.
Not because you're stuck.
But because stillness is sacred.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.

Speak like God is listening, because He is.
Listen like God is answering, because He is.
Be still like God is with you, because He is.

Alright. That’s what I’ve got for today.

If you’re looking to slow down and pray, grab a copy of All the Things I Say to God.

This children’s book is not just for children.

Much love,

Tanner

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