I don’t dance—at least not well. I tend to look like a limp fish, with synchronized flipping and flopping to the music.  But I have to say that I was a pretty good break-dancer back in the 80’s. My kids tell me that break dancing isn’t really dancing. I guess that makes sense—it is mostly just a lot of back spinning on old refrigerator boxes. So I’ve had to come to grips with the truth that I’m just one of those people on the planet who wasn’t given the gift of keeping time. My feet and hands can’t seem to get on the same page with a good solid beat.

Man, I wish I had rhythm.

Not just for dancing, but also for living.

As the tidal wave of Fall comes crashing down around me, I feel the most out of sync . . . out of rhythm. My time and soul and feet can’t make up their minds which way to move. I am out of sorts on the grown up dance floor of expectations and spreadsheets and deadlines. In contrast, the music of summer has been slow and predictable. I’ve still been dancing, but it has been full of long arcs and slow turns. My summer rhythm convinced me that this dance of work and family and reading and writing and kids is possible—enjoyable even. Sadly, the summer tempo that has been so good for my soul is now getting drowned out by the obnoxious volume of urban techno that is the fall season.

I share this particular concern only because every August my time and my soul have the potential to spiral off the cliff of bad judgment and be ruled by the taskmaster of achievement. Every new season, a single tool yanks me back from the edge and redeems my time. My rhythm calendar. I first heard of this idea from Bill Hybels (founder of Willow Creek Church) and then later from Eugene Peterson (author and pastor).

The premise of the rhythm calendar is simple: I control my time; I get to decide how I live; I initiate, I do not respond.

Peterson makes the claim that the reason we have such overloaded schedules is because we are prideful and lazy. Prideful, because we secretly want others to admire how busy we are. Lazy, because it is easier to let others dictate how we live. Pride and laziness—the twin sisters of Busy-ness.

Every new season I re-calibrate my rhythm calendar to keep my life and heart centered. I have to remind myself that the quality of my life is not determined by my speed. In fact, speed is the enemy of depth. It has taken years to truly believe that more activity does not equal more accomplishment. A rhythm calendar affirms to my frail, success-driven heart that taking a scheduled breath is ok and necessary. And then I give myself permission (because no one else is) to admit that the things most important to my soul—the things that wouldn’t make it to a normal calendar—need to be the first things on it.  Things like margin, prayer, reading, writing, and exercise. These are not secondary to my life, but primary—everything else flows from them. Then I pencil in sermon prep, coffee appointments, church meetings, and the like.

I can’t control the music being played.  Someone else controls that. But I can control what dance I dance. I do have a say in how fast I move. This coming season I choose to slow down, embrace long arcs and slow turns, and maybe even throw in a back spin for good measure.