(Thoughts from chapter twelve in Things We’ve Handed Down: Twelve Letters I Leave for You, based on the book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction by Eugene Peterson.)
We live in a culture of instant everything. Quick clicks. Fast results. We want it now—whatever it is. And if it takes too long, we move on.
But life doesn’t really work that way.
And God rarely works that way.
When I first read Eugene Peterson’s A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, something settled deep in my soul.
He was naming what most of us forget. That the life of faith is not a sprint. It’s a marathon. A journey. A quiet, steady, faithful walk toward Jesus. A quiet, steady, faithful walk with Jesus.
That idea stayed with me.
And when I wrote the final chapter of Things We’ve Handed Down, I knew it had to be the last word.
Because everything we’ve talked about—disappointment, wounds, hope, poetry, pain, beauty, belief—it all comes down to this: Will we keep going? Will we stay the course?
We pray, and sometimes we expect God to show up with an instant message—fast, predictable, on demand.
But He’s not in a hurry.
He’s more concerned with formation than speed. He’s crafting character, not shortcuts.
And for those of us who love others, for those who write, who teach, who parent, who pastor—we must remember the long obedience.
For those who live with chronic pain or loss that doesn’t go away or a diagnosis that changes everything, there is a sacred strength in simply not giving up.
For those who stay in a hard marriage, who keep showing up for a wayward child, who choose consistency when it would be easier to quit—you are walking the long road. You are becoming more like Jesus.
Even learning something new—a craft, a career, a courageous course change—takes time. Takes struggle. Takes obedience.
But beauty comes from the long obedience. The kind of beauty you can’t microwave. The kind of faith that is weathered, but not worn out. The kind of love that lasts.
That’s what I hope this whole book has whispered into your soul. That the best things in life aren’t quick. They’re deep. They’re passed down. They’re lived and learned and handed on.
So don’t quit.
Don’t stop walking.
Don’t let the weariness win.
Take the good things you’ve been handed down—the faith, the truth, the questions, the wonder—and hand them down to others.
That’s how we keep the story going. That’s how we live a life that matters.
Not in flashes, but in faithfulness.
A long obedience.
In the same direction.
