259 The Slow Walk

How Learning Names Became My Spiritual Discipline

Jun 20, 2026

Good morning, and hello friends.

There’s a shift that happens when you start walking in the Spirit. It’s not always a thunderclap. Sometimes, it’s just learning to walk slower.

When I first moved down here, my goal was simple: avoid people. My walks with Wiggles were strategic missions of solitude. Midnight loops around the block. Predawn treks on the beach, ensuring the only footprints were ours. It was just me, my thoughts, and the dog. I told myself it was for peace, for prayer, for clarity. And it was, partly. But mostly, it was for control. My comfort was the compass.

I’m not sure exactly when the pivot began. Maybe it was the Spirit’s gentle nudging against my self-built walls. But slowly, the walks changed. The hours shifted. The route diversified. And people…actual, specific people began to emerge from the blur of the background.

The homeless mother and son by the bus stop. The guy at the smoke shop, weary-eyed from a long night. The mechanics at the auto repair shop, breathing deep sighs as they navigate other people’s bad days. The family running the Avis counter, juggling paperwork and patience. The old woman who lights up at the sight of Wiggles, telling me about the Great Danes she used to have, forgetting she told me the same story yesterday. The neighbor on the corner who never fails to step out and ask, “She’s such a nice dog, what is her name?” every single time.

These aren’t random encounters anymore. They are appointments.

This, I’m learning, is a practical way to “walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” (Galatians 5:16). The “flesh” in this case was my desire for isolation, for frictionless existence, for a world that didn’t intrude on my inner monologue. The Spirit’s path is different. It’s relational. It’s interruptible.

Walking in the Spirit means slowing your pace enough to see the image of Yahuah in the person right in front of you. It means trading efficiency for empathy. It’s letting your prayer time become less about your list and more about their name, the mother’s anxiety, the mechanic’s frustration, the old woman’s loneliness.

Paul writes about the fruit of this walk: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). I used to think of these as inward virtues to cultivate in quiet. Now I see them as currencies to spend in the street. Patience is listening to the same dog story for the tenth time. Kindness is remembering the mechanic’s name. Love is seeing the person, not the problem.

This isn’t natural for me. My default is still the silent stare. But the command is clear: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others” (Philippians 2:3-4). Humility, as C.S. Lewis noted, isn’t thinking less of yourself; it’s thinking of yourself less.

So now, I watch. I listen. And sometimes, guided by a nudge I can’t explain, a word is given. A simple encouragement. A “thank you for what you do.” A “I’ll pray for your son.” Sometimes it lands right then, a pause, a softening in the shoulders, a look of genuine surprise. Other times, days later, they’ll repeat my own words back to me, a sign the seed was received.

This is the Golden Rule in motion: “So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them” (Matthew 7:12). It’s recognizing that what we do for others, these small, intentional acts of seeing…carries more weight in heaven than any solitary pursuit of personal comfort ever could.

My walks are no longer just exercise. They are reconnaissance missions for the kingdom. Each face is a story. Each name is a prayer. Each brief connection is a stitch in the fabric of a community I’m finally letting myself belong to.

The fruit isn’t in the dramatic gesture. It’s in the slowed-down step, the remembered name, the shared moment of grace on a hot sidewalk. This is keeping in step with the Spirit. One person at a time.

That is all. And thank you for reading.

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