In 1973, a group of social psychologists ran an experiment on compassion. They wanted to understand why some people stop to help strangers while others keep walking. Their test subjects? Sixty-seven seminary students at Princeton. These were folks training to preach the gospel—surely a compassionate bunch, right?
Each student was told they had to walk across campus and deliver a sermon. But they were split into three groups with different time pressures:
Along the way, each student passed a man slumped in a stairwell—coughing, groaning, clearly in distress. The question: who would stop to help?
Here’s what they found: Only 10% of the "hurried" students stopped. But among the unhurried? 63% paused to offer care.
The researchers concluded: It’s not personality or even theology that predicts compassion—it’s pace. The faster your life moves, the harder it is to care. Hurry narrows compassion.
This experiment has stuck with me—especially when I remember what passage the students were preparing to preach. Want to guess? The Parable of the Good Samaritan. You can’t make this stuff up.
Dallas Willard was once asked how to best grow spiritually, his reply: "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life. Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day."
It’s not just our joy and peace that get swallowed up in our rush—it’s our ability to love. Our ability to notice. Our ability to stop for someone slumped on the side of the road.
So today, maybe we don’t need a new Bible verse or a fresh podcast or a productivity hack. Maybe we just need to slow down. Ruthlessly.
peace,
Nick
Art: Homeless Jesus by Timothy Schmalz
Each student was told they had to walk across campus and deliver a sermon. But they were split into three groups with different time pressures:
- One group was told they were already late.
- The second group was told they weren’t late, but needed to head over immediately.
- The third group was told they had plenty of time.
Along the way, each student passed a man slumped in a stairwell—coughing, groaning, clearly in distress. The question: who would stop to help?
Here’s what they found: Only 10% of the "hurried" students stopped. But among the unhurried? 63% paused to offer care.
The researchers concluded: It’s not personality or even theology that predicts compassion—it’s pace. The faster your life moves, the harder it is to care. Hurry narrows compassion.
This experiment has stuck with me—especially when I remember what passage the students were preparing to preach. Want to guess? The Parable of the Good Samaritan. You can’t make this stuff up.
Dallas Willard was once asked how to best grow spiritually, his reply: "You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life. Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day."
It’s not just our joy and peace that get swallowed up in our rush—it’s our ability to love. Our ability to notice. Our ability to stop for someone slumped on the side of the road.
So today, maybe we don’t need a new Bible verse or a fresh podcast or a productivity hack. Maybe we just need to slow down. Ruthlessly.
peace,
Nick
Art: Homeless Jesus by Timothy Schmalz