Last week, I had the privilege of studying nonprofit leadership at Stanford alongside 60 leaders from around the world. We immersed ourselves in strategy, scaling, governance, and innovation. The content was rigorous, stretching, and deeply practical. It was a rare gift to step out of the day-to-day demands of Bethesda and think more deliberately about leadership itself, what it requires, what it costs, and what it cultivates.
At the end of the week, we were asked to articulate our primary takeaway. A shared theme emerged for many of us (including me): subtraction. The recognition that excellence is not built by adding more, but by removing what is unnecessary. Slow is not the absence of strategy; it is often THE strategy.
That realization confronted me. My default is speed. Movement. Progress. Yet in slowing down from the work, I found I could see the work more clearly. Space created insight. Margin created discernment. The ideas were not new, but they became real in the quiet. God used the space to refresh my body and soul.
We live in a culture that rewards acceleration. With endless tools designed to increase output, we may have misplaced the most important one: slowness.
At our workshops, we collect participants’ electronics. At first, it feels disruptive. By the final day, many are reluctant to take them back. Why? Because recovery requires unhurried presence. There is no whole-person healing without reflection, without space, without time for truth to surface and tools to take root. We cannot rush our way to effective recovery.
Slowness is not weakness; it is how complexity becomes clarity. And clarity submitted to God and refined in community becomes wisdom.
Mike Vaughn
Executive Director |
