The Pause That Protects Love

“Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life.” — Dallas Willard

“Hurry” doesn’t only describe our schedules—it describes our reactions, our emotions,

and the pressure we feel in moments of conflict. I was reminded of this truth during an

argument with my husband not long ago.

“Jason, I’m calling a time out. We need to take a break and come back to this once

each of us has settled down,” I said as I walked down the stairs toward my office, my

husband right behind me.

“I’m not done—I need you to hear what I’m saying…” he insisted. And honestly, I still

had plenty I wanted to say too. But I knew that if we kept pushing forward in that hurried

emotional state, nothing good was going to come of it. We needed space.

When we came back to the conversation later, both of us had softened. We’d each had

time to reflect on what was really beneath our strong reactions. We listened better. We

spoke more gently. We understood each other more clearly.

Let me be clear—I wasn’t always good at this. It took time, counseling, and lots of trial

and error to recognize the moment when an argument was no longer productive and

when a break was desperately needed. I wanted to be understood just as much as he

did, but as tension rose, I would withdraw, and neither of us was operating from a

healthy place anymore.

Sometimes the holiest thing we can do in a heated moment is to slow everything down.

When we’re in conflict—especially with the people closest to us—we feel an urgency

rise within us. The urgency to be understood. The urgency to defend ourselves. The

urgency to solve the problem right now. But that urgency is rarely from the Holy Spirit.

More often, it comes from our woundedness, our fear, or simply our pride.

Willard often taught that spiritual transformation happens in the “unhurried spaces” of

our lives. When we rush, our souls constrict; when we slow down, our hearts open.

That’s true in prayer, in daily life—and absolutely in marriage. When we take a moment

to pause, breathe, and step away, we are doing more than stopping an argument. We

are creating room for God to work.

There are times in conflict when we become emotionally “flooded.” Dr. John Gottman

uses this term to describe the physiological and psychological overwhelm triggered by

intense anxiety during conflict. Our brains are wired for self-protection, and when

emotions escalate, they push us toward taking a pause. It’s not just helpful—it’s

necessary—to let our nervous systems settle so we can actually engage in a healthy,

rational conversation.

Scripture echoes this wisdom. James writes:

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry,

because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”

— James 1:19–20

But when we’re flooded with emotion, we are anything but slow. We are in a frantic,

hurried internal state. Our bodies go into fightorflight mode. Our thoughts race. Our

hearts pound. Our words get sharper, louder, or more desperate.

In that state, wisdom is nearly impossible.

Pausing isn’t just a communication technique—it’s a spiritual practice. It’s choosing to

step out of hurry and invite God into the moment. It’s making space for peace to re-

enter the room. When my husband and I took a time out that day, we weren’t just

cooling off—we were slowing down enough to hear God’s voice again and to remember

who we were to each other.

And yes, this took time to learn. It took counseling. It took mistakes. It took many

moments when we allowed hurry to take over, and we paid the relational price. But

slowly, we discovered a different way—a way marked by patience, gentleness, and a

deliberate slowness that helped us return to each other with clearer minds and softer

hearts.

This is what Willard meant. Hurry isn’t just about schedules. It’s about the internal rush

that pulls us away from wisdom, compassion, and presence. The enemy uses hurry to

fracture relationships; God uses slowness to restore them.

If you’re in a heated argument—heart racing, stress rising—there is almost zero chance

you’re being quick to listen or slow to speak. That’s why taking time to calm down

matters. Step back. Remember you love your spouse. Assume the best. Create space

so you can show up as your best, most Christlike self before continuing the

conversation.

What I’ve learned again and again is this: if I want to be authentic, vulnerable, and

loving in my marriage—and if I want to make room for my spouse to be the same—I

have to come into the conversation with a peaceful heart. And sometimes, friends, that

means taking a very necessary time-out.