July 22nd, 2026
by Pastor Michael Goins
by Pastor Michael Goins
The Pace
Scripture: Isaiah 40:31, Ecclesiastes 3:1, Galatians 5:25, Galatians 6:9
Devotional:
Marathon runners don't sprint at the starting line. Watch any distance race and you'll see it, the crowd surges forward in a burst of adrenaline, but the runners who finish strong are the ones holding back, finding their rhythm, refusing to let the noise of the start dictate the pace of the whole race. They know something the sprinters don’t, the finish line doesn't reward speed. It rewards endurance.
Jesus understood this better than anyone. Think about it, the Son of God, with all authority in heaven and earth at His disposal, chose to move through His earthly ministry on foot, at roughly three miles an hour. He could have moved at the speed of divine urgency. Instead, He walked. Slow enough for a woman to touch the hem of His garment in a crowded street. Slow enough to stop for blind Bartimaeus shouting from the roadside. Slow enough for children to climb into His lap while the disciples tried to hurry them along.
Jesus' pace wasn't a limitation. It was a strategy. His slowness made Him interruptible. And in the Kingdom, the interruptions were the point of miracles.
Here's what we need to hear in a culture that worships hustle: pace is a spiritual discipline, not a lack of faith. Somewhere along the way, many of us absorbed the lie that if we're not sprinting, we're not serious. That stillness means stagnation. That waiting means we've lost momentum with God. So we run ourselves ragged, mistaking zeal for wisdom and activity for effectiveness and we wonder why we're burned out, emptied out, and running on fumes before the race is half over.
But God has ordained seasons for everything in your life (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Some seasons genuinely call for intense action, sprinting toward an open door, moving fast because the Spirit is moving fast. Other seasons demand patient waiting, the slow, unglamorous work of standing still while God rearranges what you cannot see. The danger isn't in either season. The danger is in applying the wrong pace to the season you're actually in: running ahead of God in zeal, or lagging behind Him in fear.
This is what it means to "walk in the Spirit" (Galatians 5:25), not a metaphor for spiritual depth, but a literal call to match your stride to His. Not faster. Not slower. In step.
When you maintain God's pace, you preserve strength for the entire journey. You stop confusing exhaustion with obedience. You start noticing the divine interruptions along the way like your waiter who needs prayer, the moment that requires your full presence instead of your next task. And Scripture makes a promise to those who hold that pace, "Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not" (Galatians 6:9). Due season. Not your season. Not now-because-I-said-so season. His season, on His timing, for those who don't quit.
The eagle doesn't flap frantically to stay aloft. It finds the current and rides it. That's not laziness, that's mastery. That's what it looks like to trust the wind of the Spirit more than your own effort.
Reflection:
Where in your life right now are you sprinting when God is asking you to walk?
Where are you lagging in fear when He's actually calling you to move?
What "interruptions" have you been rushing past that might actually be divine appointments?
Scripture: Isaiah 40:31, Ecclesiastes 3:1, Galatians 5:25, Galatians 6:9
Devotional:
Marathon runners don't sprint at the starting line. Watch any distance race and you'll see it, the crowd surges forward in a burst of adrenaline, but the runners who finish strong are the ones holding back, finding their rhythm, refusing to let the noise of the start dictate the pace of the whole race. They know something the sprinters don’t, the finish line doesn't reward speed. It rewards endurance.
Jesus understood this better than anyone. Think about it, the Son of God, with all authority in heaven and earth at His disposal, chose to move through His earthly ministry on foot, at roughly three miles an hour. He could have moved at the speed of divine urgency. Instead, He walked. Slow enough for a woman to touch the hem of His garment in a crowded street. Slow enough to stop for blind Bartimaeus shouting from the roadside. Slow enough for children to climb into His lap while the disciples tried to hurry them along.
Jesus' pace wasn't a limitation. It was a strategy. His slowness made Him interruptible. And in the Kingdom, the interruptions were the point of miracles.
Here's what we need to hear in a culture that worships hustle: pace is a spiritual discipline, not a lack of faith. Somewhere along the way, many of us absorbed the lie that if we're not sprinting, we're not serious. That stillness means stagnation. That waiting means we've lost momentum with God. So we run ourselves ragged, mistaking zeal for wisdom and activity for effectiveness and we wonder why we're burned out, emptied out, and running on fumes before the race is half over.
But God has ordained seasons for everything in your life (Ecclesiastes 3:1). Some seasons genuinely call for intense action, sprinting toward an open door, moving fast because the Spirit is moving fast. Other seasons demand patient waiting, the slow, unglamorous work of standing still while God rearranges what you cannot see. The danger isn't in either season. The danger is in applying the wrong pace to the season you're actually in: running ahead of God in zeal, or lagging behind Him in fear.
This is what it means to "walk in the Spirit" (Galatians 5:25), not a metaphor for spiritual depth, but a literal call to match your stride to His. Not faster. Not slower. In step.
When you maintain God's pace, you preserve strength for the entire journey. You stop confusing exhaustion with obedience. You start noticing the divine interruptions along the way like your waiter who needs prayer, the moment that requires your full presence instead of your next task. And Scripture makes a promise to those who hold that pace, "Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not" (Galatians 6:9). Due season. Not your season. Not now-because-I-said-so season. His season, on His timing, for those who don't quit.
The eagle doesn't flap frantically to stay aloft. It finds the current and rides it. That's not laziness, that's mastery. That's what it looks like to trust the wind of the Spirit more than your own effort.
Reflection:
Where in your life right now are you sprinting when God is asking you to walk?
Where are you lagging in fear when He's actually calling you to move?
What "interruptions" have you been rushing past that might actually be divine appointments?
Posted in Free Bird
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