I happen to live directly opposite a bus stop.

Which means that from the comfort of my sofa, cup of tea nearby and television on, I have a surprisingly good view of the fascinating world of people waiting for buses.

And there are definitely different types of bus-stop people.

There’s the impatient one. Checking their watch. Looking down the road. Checking their watch again. Looking down the road again, presumably in the hope that staring hard enough will somehow make the bus appear? Who knows!

There’s the phone person. Head down, scrolling away.

There are the chatters, who seem perfectly happy to make friends with whoever happens to be waiting alongside them.

And this morning there was even someone doing a sort of little jiggle. Not quite dancing, but definitely moving around while they waited.

But as I watch all these people, something has struck me.

Very few people just stand.

No phone.
No watch checking.
No fiddling with something.
No pacing about.

Just standing at the bus stop and… being.

And it made me wonder:

Can I still do that?

Can I stand somewhere for five minutes and do absolutely nothing?

No phone. No distraction. No need to fill the time.

Just stand.

Because I’m beginning to wonder whether we’ve lost something.

Fifty years ago, there wasn’t a smartphone to pull out of your pocket every time life presented you with thirty seconds of nothingness. Waiting was simply part of life.

You waited for the bus.

You waited in a queue.

You waited for someone to arrive.

And while you waited, perhaps you chatted. Perhaps you watched the world go by. Perhaps you thought.

Or perhaps you thought about absolutely nothing at all.

And maybe that wasn’t wasted time.

There is actually research suggesting that allowing our minds to wander can help with creativity and problem-solving. Sometimes the brain needs space in which connections can form rather than another piece of information to process.

It makes me wonder what thoughts never get the opportunity to arrive because I’ve filled every available gap.

What idea might have emerged?

What might I have noticed?

What might I have remembered?

What might God have whispered?

The Bible repeatedly tells us that Jesus withdrew from the crowds and went somewhere quiet.

Luke tells us:

“Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed.”
Luke 5:16

I love that word often.

This wasn’t an emergency measure for when Jesus became completely exhausted. Withdrawal was part of the rhythm of his life.

Jesus had people wanting his attention. People needing healing. Questions needing answering. Disciples needing teaching.

There was always something else he could have been doing.

And yet sometimes he withdrew.

Perhaps there is something important about refusing to fill every moment.

We live in a world in which almost any tiny gap can now be occupied. Standing in a queue? Check your phone. Waiting for the kettle? Check your messages. Television advert? Scroll through something else at the same time.

We don’t even have to be bored anymore.

But perhaps a little boredom isn’t such a terrible thing.

Perhaps staring into space isn’t wasted time.

Perhaps standing still isn’t doing nothing.

Perhaps sometimes it is creating the space in which we notice what has been drowned out by all the noise.

So I’ve decided the bus stop opposite my house is setting me a challenge.

Next time I’m waiting somewhere, I’m going to resist automatically reaching for my phone.

I’m going to stand.

Look around.

Let my mind wander.

Maybe pray.

Maybe think.

Maybe think about absolutely nothing.

And just be.

Because perhaps the question isn’t whether we have five minutes to stop?

Perhaps the question is whether we can still tolerate five minutes in which nothing happens.

So, can you stand still?