Trusting the Slow Work
I have been a homebrewer for the last fourteen years. I remember the early days: spending all my time and energy keeping a rolling boil while adding hops and other additives at just the right moment, finally chilling the wort to a temperature where yeast could thrive, pitching the yeast, sealing the fermenter bucket, and tackling the cleanup. Then came the waiting. And man, it was hard to wait.
The first couple of days I would be anxious, checking constantly for the little bubbles in the airlock to start popping as evidence that fermentation was underway. Even after the bubbling slowed, I would constantly consider opening the fermenter to look, smell, and taste—though any brewer worth his weight knows to minimize exposure to air at that stage. The waiting was hard, but it was always worth it.
Whether it’s brewing, gardening, strength training, or the spiritual life, it’s difficult in this age of instant gratification to wait, trust the process, and lean into the slow work. Yet it’s through this process of quiet cultivation that we harvest the best bounty.
The Discipline of Cultivation: Learning to Wait on the Invisible
This is something I have needed to be consistently reminded of throughout my time in the Order of the Common Life. Through a daily return to my commitments to silence, stillness, contemplation, and prayer—alongside spiritual friendship, spiritual direction, hospitality, and confession—I have over time noticed a deep work happening within me. It is a quiet, painstakingly slow work that almost goes unnoticed day to day. I simply continue to notice and nurture the love of God as each morning comes.
"Do not be in a hurry to build on your foundation. Let God do it in His own time and in His own way. The foundation must be laid deep, in silence, in darkness, in suffering, in hiddenness."
— Evelyn Underhill, Letters
Weaving an Interior Framework
Recently, I had an image of this process being like a spider weaving its web, where each small "yes" adds another strand. Often these invitations didn't explicitly sound like a dramatic voice from God, but they were consistent with the trajectory I was on, and there was a quiet grace to move forward. After living this way in increasing measure over the last five years, I’ve noticed that when life hits me with something painful, I have an interior structure holding me up. This framework doesn't just steady me; it provides the nourishment I need to thrive and find purpose amid the chaos.
"Trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay. We should like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new. And yet it is the law of all progress that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—and that it may take a very long time... Above all, trust in the slow work of God, our loving maker and savior."
— Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J., Hearts on Fire
Beyond the Emotional High: Finding God in Desert Seasons
Having grown up Charismatic, I know what it’s like to constantly pursue a heightened feeling or experience of God. I also know those emotional highs don't last, which can create an endless cycle of chasing spiritual gratification. When we hit a "desert season" where God feels quiet, we invariably analyze what we did wrong or wonder why God won't rescue us from the dryness. In doing so, we miss the quiet invitations in the desert for encounter and maturity that only happen through slow, hidden work. I don’t always feel or sense God’s presence, but I nonetheless pursue union with Him. These are the slow, subterranean pressures that transform coal into diamonds.
Returning to the Process: Why Time-Tested Rhythms Matter
I’m no longer that impatient homebrewer checking the airlock every hour. I have my processes down so well that they have become second nature—even after moving from simple extract brewing to all-grain batches, which demand far more time, precision, and patience. I know to trust the rhythm. I’m no longer chasing shiny new gear or quick fixes; there is a profound comfort and awareness in returning to the simple, time-tested practices day after day. They haven't let me down yet, so why change them?
