“God walks ‘slowly’ because he is love. If he is not love he would walk much faster. Love has its speed. It is an inner speed. It is a spiritual speed. It is a different kind of speed from the technological speed to which we are accustomed. It is ‘slow’ and yet it is lord over all the other speeds since it is the speed of love. It goes on in the depths of our life whether we notice it or not.”
— Kosuke Koyama, Three Mile an Hour God
The End of a Chapter
I just finished another school year as principal. Actually, it was my last year as principal. I’ve decided to step away—for a season, or maybe for longer.
While I loved the work, I slowly realized that being a principal required me—or maybe I felt required—to let go of many parts of who I am. The role is relentless… and a little ruthless. The job is never done. It demands quick thinking, multitasking, and an ability to keep many balls in the air.
And it subtly forms you.
I often felt pressure to present a certain image, push with a certain drive, and perform to a certain standard. These expectations aren’t all bad. In fact, leaning into the wisdom of other leaders helped me avoid some painful mistakes. But over time, I noticed I was being formed into someone who didn’t feel fully… me.
Losing Myself While Leading
I’m a creative person. I write songs and poems. I draw, I cook, I create. It’s how I reflect, express, and even worship. But I started holding that part of me back. What if I shared a sad or angry or confusing song? Would people question my leadership? Would they say, “Maybe he’s not okay. Maybe he shouldn’t be leading a Christian school.”
These thoughts, subtle at first, began to grow louder. I couldn’t ignore them. And so I stopped. I stopped writing. I stopped recording. I stopped sharing. I wasn’t walking at the speed of my soul—or at the speed of God. I was running, afraid my soul would catch up and expose what I was feeling.
Silence, Stillness, and Stuck Emotions
This spring, I went on a silent retreat. Just two days of quiet, walking, and journaling. I picked up God Walk by Mark Buchanan, a book God brought me at just the right time.
I journaled, as I usually do, and waited for the emotions I knew were there. Normally on retreats, tears come—sometimes just a few, sometimes a flood. But this time? Nothing. I felt them below the surface, but they were stuck.
One thing I know about myself: it’s hard for me to really feel my emotions. I tend to bypass them, even when I know I need to invite Jesus into those spaces. My counsellor reminded me again in our last session that music helps. Listening tunes me in. Writing lets it out.
Meandering with God
On those retreats, I also go for walks. Not to get anywhere. I just walk. Slowly. I loop the trails back and forth, no destination, just presence. I look up at the horizon and dream. Then I look down at the grass and flowers and remember where I am, not caring about where I am going.
Buchanan’s words hit my heart:
“For my first twenty years, I walked in a way that seemed good to me. But increasingly, I felt lost. I was lost. I was going nowhere, and fast. When I was twenty-one, I began to follow Christ… I had a guide who kept saying, ‘Come, follow me. Walk this way.’ When I’d ask him, ‘Where, exactly?’ he’d only smile, enigmatically, and keep walking. Slowly, slowly, I learned to trust him. He seemed to have a good sense of direction.”
I love that. I need that. Because I don’t have a good sense of direction—literally or figuratively. Ask my wife. Ask my friends. Ask Google Maps (my codependent companion). But Jesus does. He has the best sense of direction. He invites me, day by day, to walk with him.
Into a New Season
Now, as I step into this summer—into intentional unemployment, into sabbatical, and into study (I’ll be working on my PhD)—I am learning to walk more slowly. More authentically.
I’m starting to write again—songs, poems, thoughts from the heart. It’s freeing and scary and life-giving.
I do believe God will call me back into leadership in some form one day. But when that day comes, I pray I return with a whole and healed heart. I want to lead as the person God created me to be, not the version I think others need me to be.
The Prayer of a Slow Walker
Leadership should never mean sacrificing the soul God gave me. I don’t want to lead at the speed of performance. I want to lead at the speed of love. The speed of God.
So for now, I walk slowly—with my soul, with Jesus, with an unhurried heart.
God, help me walk slowly and honestly with you, in step with your Spirit. You have the best sense of direction.