I’m writing this article sitting on the veranda at our family farm. It’s my day off. The only sounds are birds and cicadas, and the occasional bellow of cows in the distance. I have a whole day with a hammock and no pressures—no timetable, no rushing. It strikes me how unusual that is in modern life. In his classic book Adrenalin and Stress, Arch Hart refers to the epidemic of what he calls “hurry sickness”. He writes:
The pace of life has accelerated dramatically in the past forty or fifty years. Most of us barely find time to brush our teeth, let alone spend time in relaxation, meditation, or reflection. Our culture is oriented toward speed and efficiency; it is hard to succeed unless we keep up with or move faster than everyone else.[1]
Hart wrote those words in 1995. In the thirty years since, with changes in technology and lifestyle, the pace of life has only increased.
For many of us, the busyness of our day shapes the way we approach Bible reading and prayer. We grab ten minutes of Bible reading on the way to work, our minds already racing ahead to our To Do list. We choose devotional books built around a short passage, a brief comment, and a two-sentence prayer. Just browsing some devotional titles says it all: 3-Minute Devotions for Women, The One Year Love Language Minute Devotional, A Mindful Moment: 5-Minute Meditations and Devotions. Convenience often become our priority, rather than depth. Our quiet time becomes something to get done, rather than a space for real growth in our relationship with God. That’s one reason our quiet times sometimes aren’t working.
Surface-Level Quiet Times
Many devotionals jump to a different passage each day, often without context. Over time it becomes difficult to retain what we’ve read or embed it deeply in our lives. It reminds me of James’s warning:
Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. (James 1:22–24)
When I’m rushing, my quiet times easily become superficial. I repeat the same prayers. I land on the same predictable applications. I go through the motions. It becomes a spiritual version of fast food: quick, convenient, but ultimately unsatisfying. That’s a far cry from the delight we see in Psalm 119:
Your statutes are my heritage forever;
they are the joy of my heart.
My heart is set on keeping your decrees
to the very end. (vv. 111–112)
Deep joy in God’s word rarely grows in hurried soil.
How Long Should Quiet Times Take?
Thirty minutes? Forty minutes? An hour? Should we feel rebuked that we’re not getting up at 4 a.m. like a spiritual version of Jocko Willink? Or like Martin Luther, who is widely quoted as saying: “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.” Lately my answer to this question has become simple: the right length for a quiet time is long enough to be unhurried.
An unhurried quiet time means there is enough time to soak in God’s word. Time to savour and meditate on it. Time to explore, to follow a cross-reference. Time to read slowly, to reflect and perhaps memorise some verses.
Not rushing allows enough time for God’s word to change us. Scripture teaches, rebukes, corrects and trains us in righteousness (2 Tim 3:16–17). That kind of heart work rarely happens at high speed.
We should make time to enjoy our relationship with God: a daily conversation with our King and Creator as he speaks to us in his word and we respond to him in prayer; where we delight in him, and see him more clearly, and he deepens our love for him.
What Does This Mean for Me?
For me, this means making time in the morning before I leave the house. It means, I’m sorry to say, getting up earlier (and going to bed earlier), even in the darkness of winter. I’ve worked out I need about an hour so that I’m not checking the clock and can enjoy time in God’s word and prayer.
I don’t try to cram too much into that hour. For example, I’ve realised that I can’t read four chapters of the Bible and still meditate on them deeply and pray. If I’m reading through the Bible in a year, I might listen to some chapters while walking or driving instead.
At the moment, I’m loving spending a couple of months in just one book of the Bible. I recently finished Titus, reading a short passage each day alongside an accessible commentary (the God’s Word For You series is great!).
My rhythm is fairly simple: review the passage I’m memorising, read the day’s passage, explore cross-references and insights from the commentary, finish by writing a prayer based on the passage. The prayer usually includes a summary of the key teaching, praise and thanks to God for these truths, confession, and asking for God’s help to become more like Christ.
What If I Have Less Time?
There are days and seasons when I simply don’t have an hour. On those days I still aim to be unhurried, even if the time is shorter. I might return to a familiar passage, or reflect again on the passage from the previous day. That way I’m deepening my understanding rather than rushing through something new. I once heard Peter Adam suggest another practice that is helpful for people with little time during the working week: spending a couple of hours once a week studying a passage in depth, then slowly unpacking it across the rest of the week.
“Rushing ruins relationships” Adam Maybry says in The Art of Rest. That’s true of our human relationships and our relationship with God. “Deep fellowship with God and others can’t be microwaved. It takes time.[2] When we rush our quiet times we skim read, tick the box and move on. But there’s little space for reflection, repentance, delight or real transformation. Rushing is one of the key reasons our quiet times sometimes aren’t working. As you open the Bible and pray each day, aim for unhurried time with God.
The original version of this article was posted on Jo’s Substack.
[1] A.D. Hart, The Hidden Link Between Adrenaline and Stress (1995: W Publishing Group), p. 38.
[2] Adam Maybry, The Art of Rest (2018: The Good Book Company), pp. 89–90.
