Slowing My Pace

God is not in a hurry, so I’m choosing His pace

Scripture to ponder:

“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”

— 2 Peter 3:9 (ESV)

Friends,

I want to share a simple update from the middle of my real life.

For a season, I wrote daily. It poured out of me. Some of it was joy. Some of it was survival. Some of it was obedience. And I’m grateful for what God did in that stretch—both in me and through it.

But right now, I’m slowing down.

I’m not done, discouraged, or “taking a break.”

I’m slowing down because I’m in a tender place of seeking Him—returning to my First Love—and I don’t want my words to add to the division already happening in families, churches, or the world.

I’m watching the pain around us. I’m watching how quickly we can become experts on everyone else’s fruit while ignoring our own roots. And if I’m honest, I’ve felt that temptation too.

I was finding myself pulled to address everything I disagreed with or felt grieved in my Spirit it was not helpful to others growth.

So I’ve paused my pace to let the Lord examine me.

Pausing returns my attention to the Father’s heart—and realigns mine with His.

If you read the verse at the beginning, it is my desire to align with that thinking. That I am more concerned about the wellbeing of those who may not yet know the Father’s heart.

Trauma has often been my filter. I want it to be grace.

I’m realizing that even “good” writing can be powered by the wrong thing—pressure, adrenaline, pain, the need to be understood, the need to fix what I can’t fix, the need to stay ahead of discomfort.

And the Holy Spirit—kind and thorough—has been putting His finger on places I didn’t know were still cluttered. At first it stung… and then I recognized it: this is Him answering my prayers.

He keeps reminding me: Jesus already bought my freedom. Now I get to learn how to live like that’s true. And for me, that starts with a clean temple—Him ruling, not my wounds. Full of the Spirit, not full of old hurts. Discernment shaped by love, not fear.

And I want to learn trust the way Jesus trusted the Father—even when obedience is costly.

I don’t want to be like Israel who drew back from God’s presence because fear felt safer than surrender. I want to be like Moses, who leaned into the fear of the Lord—the kind of fear that produces wisdom and obedience.

Like Abraham, who put Isaac on the altar because he truly believed God.

Like Esther, who fasted and prayed and then walked forward bold and brave.

Like Job, who suffered deeply and still worshiped.

Like David, who confessed when confronted instead of defending himself.

And most of all, I want to be like Jesus—loving and forgiving those who have hurt me the most.

I’m becoming convinced more every day that the Father’s will is not that we live comfortably, but that people be saved—and that we become like Christ.

So here’s what my slower pace means:

I’m writing from the work God is doing in me, not from a place of “I have it all figured out.” I want this to stay relational, not performative— I desire feedback and dialogue.

It means I’m examining my motives and letting God heal what’s underneath them.

It means I’m learning to choose honesty without ugliness (and that requires a pause)—testimony without pride (keeping my story honest which includes the messy middle)—and truth without harshness (sharing God’s Word with curiosity about where people are, not judgment of where I think they should be).

It means I’m learning to steward my own life before trying to tell anyone else how to steward theirs.

And it also means this:

I don’t want a platform.

I want a community.

I’m hungry for discipleship and unity—not the comparison and division that has been creeping into the family of God.

And I don’t just need to be heard—I need to hear from others. I want to connect with those who also long to please God, knowing we’ll do it imperfectly until Jesus returns. That’s why Jesus pre-paid for our sins—you know, the times we miss the mark—and why His grace keeps forming us.

This blog has been a beautiful place to share what I love, what I’m learning, what makes me sad, and what keeps pulling me back to Jesus. And I’m hoping we can build something here that feels increasingly rare—a space where we can be honest, humble, repentant, and still safe… still loved.

If you’ve felt that hunger too, you’re not alone.

So I’ll keep writing. Just slower. More prayer-soaked. More surrendered. More led.

And if you want to reply and share what God is doing in you—what you’re wrestling with, what you’re rejoicing in, what you’re returning to—I would genuinely love to hear it. This is how we grow stronger—not just by reading, but by participating. I hope you’ll feel safe here to share. And if the comments don’t feel like the right place, you can always send me a message. I truly care, and I’d be honored to participate in your story.

With love,

Casey

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Here are a couple passages that have stuck with me through my 47 years of following Jesus:

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!””

‭‭Psalm‬ ‭46‬:‭1‬, ‭10‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.”

‭‭Lamentations‬ ‭3‬:‭21‬-‭26‬ ‭ESV‬‬

“For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.” But you were unwilling, Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him. And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.”

‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭30‬:‭15‬, ‭18‬, ‭21‬ ‭ESV‬‬

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Prayer

Father, I pray for this community and for everyone receiving this by email. I ask that we would grow in our awareness of Your presence.

Thank You that through the Holy Spirit we are never left alone, and because of Jesus we have confident access to Your throne of grace—where You are abundant in mercy and help in our time of need.

Thank You for every reader and every story. Your Word teaches that we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony. Our testimonies hold moments that have hurt us—and moments that have drawn us closer to You at the same time.

Teach us how to abide in You, so we live from the love that casts out fear and empowers us to follow Jesus in real life. Help us receive what Christ has already accomplished, and to be honest about the condition of our hearts—quick to humble ourselves and repent when the Holy Spirit brings conviction and clarity.

Thank You that facing the truth about our hearts is not something to fear; it is a pathway into the freedom Jesus has already purchased for us.

Refine Your people. Let Your holy fire burn away everything that does not serve Your purposes. Let what can be shaken be shaken, so what remains is solid, lasting, and fit for building healthy community.

Thank You that eternal life is knowing You—not only someday in heaven, but here and now—through Jesus Christ, by the power and presence of the Holy Spirit.

Help us understand these things. Thank You, Jesus, for all You have made possible. Thank You, Father, that You are good.

Have Your way in this space and in our lives.

In Jesus’ Holy Name, Amen.