Very often, I receive a stunning blow of wisdom from a completely unexpected source. That happened to me last month on our mission trip to the White Mountain Apache Reservation in Arizona.

We worked hard all week, demolishing some walls on a community youth center so that it could be repaired. Things were not going as well as we would have liked. The walls were pretty stout, and we not coming down like we wanted them to. And when you add the fact that we were working with limited tools and resources, it was going pretty slow.

We were also holding a Vacation Bible School in the afternoons for the kids of the community. Again, we were pretty frazzled, trying to run the bus through the community in a timely fashion, and do all the things we had planned for that portion of our days. We were working pretty hard, no matter where we were. And that was a good thing; we are called to work with all of our might, especially as we work for the Lord.

On our final day in this community, when the kids had all been loaded on the bus for the return route through the community, dropping them off at their homes, I stayed behind, waiting at the community center. We were having a special dinner that night, and one of the local Apache ladies was providing some freshly made fry bread for us. So I lingered, waiting on her to arrive, and the rest of the group to return.

As I was sitting there on the porch, and elderly Apache slowly made his way over from his home across the street. He sat beside me for a while, without even speaking. He just joined me in sitting and enjoying the breeze. I soon found out his name was John Longfeather.

Eventually, he spoke, and told me that he thought we were making a difference in his community. We talked about the kids and the VBS. He has a couple of grandkids who had been there all week. His statements were brief and to the point; John is a man of few words. Finally, he asked about our work, and so I filled him in on the efforts we had made, and how it wasn’t going as quickly as planned.

His response floored me. It hit me so hard that I have been dealing with it mentally, emotionally, and spiritually ever since, and it has been almost a month since that day on the community center porch. He said, “You white people are always in such a hurry. You need to slow down and listen.”

I sat there, stunned. Before I could frame a response, he pointed out his dog, and told me he bites, so be careful. And the conversation drifted in other directions. But that single statement did not leave me. Slow down and listen, he said.

How many times have I read Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God”? How many times have I read of Elijah’s encounter with the still small voice of God? How often have I read books, blogs, and articles about slowing down and seeking God more clearly? Dozens, if not hundreds of times!

But John’s simple statement, “Slow down and listen,” captured my attention like nothing else ever has. And I have been seeking this ever since. How can I slow down and listen to what God is saying? How can I practice this in my life?

I am still wrestling with this thought, and my ability to obey. But I’m doing my best to slow down. I’m doing my best to listen.

And as I do, I offer a prayer of thanks for an old Apache man named John.

Question: How do you slow down? What have you found to be the biggest distractions to doing so? You can leave a comment by clicking here.