Haste: The World’s Shortcut and the Lord’s Sovereign Rhythm
By Harold Mawela, from my study in Akasia, Pretoria
My friends, let me tell you about the morning I broke the cardinal rule of the Highveld. It was last winter, just before dawn, the kind of morning where the cold settles into the bones of the earth and the grass in Theresapark crunches underfoot like shattered glass. My mind was a swarm of worries—a manuscript deadline, a looming council meeting at the church, the relentless ping of messages on my phone. I decided to walk, to pray, to find a moment of peace before the day’s chaos. But my spirit was not walking; it was sprinting ahead of my body, frantic and fearful. I rushed down a familiar path, my eyes on the grey horizon, not on the ground before me.
That is when I walked, face-first, into a masterpiece.
A spider’s web, woven in the night between two acacia thorns, glistening with a million diamonds of dew. It was breathtaking, a lattice of delicate silver. And there I was, a hulking, hurried man, tangled in its threads, the intricate work shattered by my haste. As I stood there, picking the silken strands from my beard—a foolish, chastised giant—the Spirit spoke a clear, gentle rebuke: You have just prayed for My will, and then sprinted blindly through the middle of it.
This, I believe, is the parable of our age. We worship at the altar of speed. We want instant answers to ancient questions, overnight blessings without seasons of growth, and a faith that delivers like a same-day parcel. But speed without wisdom, brothers and sisters, is not progress; it is merely a faster way to get lost. It is the recipe for disaster. True patience is not inactivity; it is the strategic, Spirit-led positioning of the soul that waits for the dew to settle so it can see the web before it walks into it.
The Theological Anatomy of Haste: A Disorder of Time and Trust
Let us define our terms with biblical precision. Haste is the autonomous human attempt to seize control of God’s timeline. It is the fleshly response to the perceived silence or slowness of heaven. Its root is not efficiency, but unbelief. Its fruit is not fulfilment, but fracture.
Now, contrast this with the Patience of God. Scripture reveals a God who is not idle, but intentional. He spends centuries preparing a bloodline for a Messiah. He leads His people through a wilderness to teach them dependence. He allows a Lazarus to die to display a greater glory. God’s timing is not a mechanical ticking; it is the perfect, purposeful rhythm of a sovereign composer. To rush ahead is to dance to a different, destructive beat.
Why is this so critical for us here, in the complex tapestry of South Africa? Because our context is a pressure cooker for haste. We see it in the political promises of overnight utopias, in the desperate economic scrambles that too often end in ruin, and in the heartbreaking news of our own countrymen being tricked by offers of quick money to fight in a foreign war, only to be sacrificed on the altar of someone else’s ambition. We see it in the anguished polarization of our national conversation, where complex histories are flattened into swift, savage judgements. Haste makes us vulnerable to every predator, both physical and ideological.
The Logic of Waiting: A Syllogism of Sovereignty
Some may object: “But the world moves fast! If we wait, we will be left behind. Did not Christ Himself say the harvest is plentiful? We must act!”
This is a fair challenge, and it deserves a reasoned, theological response. Let us structure the argument thus:
· Major Premise: God is eternally sovereign, omniscient, and perfectly good (Psalm 115:3; 1 John 4:8).
· Minor Premise: Time and its outcomes are entirely subject to His sovereign will and perfect knowledge (Acts 17:26; Ephesians 1:11).
· Conclusion: Therefore, the optimal path for human flourishing at any given moment is the one aligned with God’s revealed timing and purpose, not with the frantic pace of the world.
The common objection—that this leads to passive fatalism—fails because it misunderstands the nature of biblical waiting. The waiting of the saints is a vigilant, active, and prepared posture. It is Noah building for 120 years before a drop of rain falls. It is David refusing to hasten his kingship by laying a hand on Saul, the Lord’s anointed. It is Jesus’s thirty years of hidden preparation before three years of public ministry. This is not inactivity; it is the most strategic activity of all: aligning our spirit with the Spirit of God.
Christian thinkers from Augustine to the present have understood that faith and reason are not enemies, but allies in knowing God. Reason itself, illuminated by Scripture, shows us that a masterpiece—whether a spider’s web, a human soul, or a nation’s healing—cannot be rushed. It requires the right conditions, the right sequence, the right timing.
Cultivating the Garden of Patience: A Practical Discipleship
So how do we, who are hardwired for haste, learn this sacred rhythm? We must move from theory to practice, from the head to the heart and the hands.
1. Embrace the Sanctity of the “In-Between.” God’s most formative work is often done in the wait, in the wilderness, in the “not yet.” The pressure you feel is not a signal to break ranks, but to deepen roots. Use the waiting time for the “inner work” of self-awareness, to know your triggers for impatience.
2. Practice the Pause of Presence. Before you hit send, before you make that decision in anger or anxiety, before you sprint onto the next thing—stop. Take three deep breaths. In that pause, invite the Holy Spirit into the moment. Ask: “Am I building a spider’s web for Your glory, or am I tearing through one in my fear?”
3. Anchor in the Testimonies of God’s Faithfulness. When my soul grows impatient, I return to the living testimonies of His perfect timing. I think of a young man named Braxton, whose world shattered with family tragedy, yet in the painful, slow work of healing, found a deeper, more real relationship with Jesus than he ever had in the quick euphoria of first belief. His healing was a marathon, not a sprint—and it produced a stronger, more resilient faith.
The Unhurried Heart in a Hurting World
This is our prophetic call in a hurried, harried world. We are to be the calm in the storm, the planted tree by streams of water in a landscape of tumbleweeds. Our lives must declare that our hope is not in the next election, the next pay check, or the next quick fix to our national pain. Our hope is in the Lord, who never comes late, who never misses a detail, and who is weaving a story of redemption so magnificent that our hurried minds can scarcely fathom it.
The danger of haste is that it trades the eternal tapestry for the temporary thread. It chooses the mirage of the shortcut over the sure, solid, sometimes slow path of the King’s highway.
So today, from my home in Akasia—a suburb built on old agricultural holdings, a place where history unfolds layer upon layer—I challenge you. Step out of the frantic current. Let the dew of God’s Spirit settle on your circumstances. Look for the glistening web of His will. And then, with unwavering conviction born of divine alignment, move.
For in the economy of God, the patient are the true pioneers, and those who wait on the Lord will inherit the earth.
https://podcasts.apple.com/za/podcast/the-danger-of-haste/id1506692775?i=1000741940345
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