At first glance, this pace can feel efficient, admirable even. There is no sluggishness in this culture. Tasks are executed with excellence. Delays are minimized. People are always on the move, always achieving, always reaching forward. There is an energy in the air that can be contagious. It inspires productivity, heightens alertness, and makes one feel part of something dynamic and purposeful. It is no surprise that Korea has risen so rapidly in economic and technological terms. The 빨리 빨리 mindset is not just a way of life—it is a driving force behind progress.
And yet, beneath the efficiency lies a quiet exhaustion. The quickness that fuels achievement also accelerates anxiety. In a 빨리 빨리 world, slowness feels like failure. Rest feels like laziness. Conversations become transactional. Meals lose their warmth. Friendships struggle to deepen. There is no time to linger, to wonder, to wrestle with questions. Everything must move. Quickly. The fast pace leaves little space for silence, reflection, or even grief. It is difficult to hear God when life is always on fast-forward.
As a Christian living within this culture, I find myself caught in the tension between admiration and concern. I admire the discipline, the drive, the diligence. These are virtues not to be dismissed. Even Scripture reminds us not to be slothful in zeal but fervent in spirit. Jesus himself was not idle. He moved with intention, healed with power, taught with clarity. But he was never in a hurry. That difference is profound. Jesus moved with purpose, not panic. His time was short, yet he never rushed. He paused to touch, to listen, to weep. He withdrew to pray. He lingered at tables. He walked, not ran, to his destinations. In a world obsessed with speed, Jesus embodied a different tempo—one that flowed from intimacy with the Father, not the pressures of the crowd.
One particular story that contrasts with 빨리 빨리 culture is found in Luke 10:38–42, when Jesus visits the home of Martha and Mary. Martha, eager to serve, busies herself with preparations. She is the image of responsibility and haste. Mary, on the other hand, sits at Jesus’ feet, listening. Martha, frustrated, demands that Jesus rebuke her sister. But Jesus answers gently, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” In a culture that prizes doing, Jesus affirms the sacredness of being. Mary’s stillness is not laziness—it is worship.
This story invites me to rethink the values I absorb in this 빨리 빨리 world. It is easy to measure worth by how fast we respond, how quickly we achieve, how efficiently we function. But the kingdom of God does not operate on earthly schedules. The fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience—cannot be microwaved. They grow slowly, deeply, often in the hidden places. A rushed life can produce results, but not always fruit. The Spirit’s work in us is not 빨리 빨리. It is slow, steady, transformative.
I often wonder what we miss when everything is rushed. When we speed through meals, do we miss the nourishment that comes from shared presence? When we gloss over conversations, do we miss the chance to listen deeply, to discern the pain behind a friend’s hurried words? When we push forward relentlessly, do we trample over the gentle voice of God whispering for us to stop, to wait, to rest? In Exodus, God commands his people to observe the Sabbath—not just as a rule, but as a rhythm of grace. To stop work once a week was not simply to rest the body, but to declare trust in a God who provides. In a 빨리 빨리 world, Sabbath is rebellion. It says, I am not my productivity. I do not need to rush to be enough.
Living slowly in a quick culture is difficult. It feels like swimming against the current. There is pressure to conform—to reply immediately, to move constantly, to show that you are busy, useful, efficient. But I am learning that sometimes the most powerful witness is to live differently. To walk instead of run. To wait instead of push. To listen instead of talk. To make time for prayer not as a task, but as a breathing space. I fail often. I get swept up in the rush. But the Spirit keeps calling me back to stillness.
Slowness does not mean apathy. Nor does it mean avoidance. It means presence. Being fully where I am, not always chasing the next thing. It means giving attention—to God, to people, to the moment. In doing so, I reflect the heart of Jesus, who even on his way to heal a dying girl paused to speak to a bleeding woman. Who, after resurrection, did not ascend immediately but stayed forty more days to teach, eat, and encourage his disciples. Love is slow. It cannot be rushed. Neither can healing, repentance, growth, or faith.
The 빨리 빨리 culture teaches me to be efficient. The gospel teaches me to be faithful. Efficiency measures success by speed and scale. Faithfulness measures by love and obedience. They do not always go together. Sometimes God calls us to be still when everything around us says move. Sometimes he leads us through wilderness when we would rather take the expressway. But in the slowness, he is present. In the quiet, he speaks.
I do not wish to condemn the culture in which I live. There is much to honor in its work ethic and drive. But as a Christian, I must live by another clock. One that does not tick with anxiety, but with trust. One that allows room for pause, for worship, for mystery. I want to be a person who can say no to hurry, who can sit at the feet of Christ even when the world demands Martha’s pace. For it is in the slow, the still, the surrendered places that I truly come to know him—not just as a Lord to serve, but as a friend to love.
And so in this 빨리 빨리 land, I seek to walk slowly with Jesus. To eat with gratitude. To listen with patience. To speak with intention. To live not for speed, but for presence. The world may rush by, but I will not let it carry my soul with it. I will abide. For the One who is the same yesterday, today, and forever is never in a hurry—and he walks with me, even here.
0 comments:
Post a Comment