Friday, June 3, 2011
Time. Time is our enemy. Time is our friend. Time is a gift given to each of us equally. Waste time. Use time. Spend time. Time is a salve for wounds. Time is endless in misery, comes up short in happiness.
Time is a test. Can you persevere? Can you endure? Does your character lose its shiny hue when time stretches across deserts of monotony? Can you live in the moment? Can you plan for the future? Can you be content with your cookies while you bake your cake for tomorrow? Can you be thankful for your stale bread knowing that you have to eat from the same loaf the next meal?
Time is His creation before the breath of man. Time is relative and elusive. Fluid and concrete. Is time fallen?
How does He hold time? If He were to squeeze His hand would eons suddenly jumble together, or would the past be forever gone in an eternal abyss? Or would time simply end and all things would tumble into other dimensions?
Is His memory the only true history we have? When He changed His mind and let Hezekiah live another fifteen years, did He rewrite the future, or is changing His mind a part of a divine script? If the future is already written, then is our present actually the past? Or does it matter?
When He relates to us in our time, giving us encouragement for the moment, a prodding to do better for the future, is this an act of supreme humility? Our prayers take place in our perception of time. He commands us to pray continually. He is beyond time, yet He is engaged in our hearts' desires for today and tomorrow, for all time. The temporal matters to the eternal. Do we cheat His love when we act like time doesn't matter to Him, that He is too aloof to hear our temporal prayers?
Your next day will not come unless He wills it. Your past is not redeemed unless He purchases it. The feat of moving mountains is dwarfed by being still in the river of rushing time that sweeps away the context of each ticking second.
To live in this present unit of time requires profound faith. Yet faith lived out moment by moment is simple. Faith becomes breathing. Then we find ourselves living, moving, and having being in the great I AM who was and is and is to come.
Time does not march on. Time will end. Time is a currency that will one day be worthless. It is a tool that will be useless.
But here as the sand slides down in a thin stream to the bottom of that shapely glass, filling space, as your heart gives a beat to its own rhythmical intonations of life, this very bandwidth of time exists. It is what you know. It is the starting line for your next step. It is your place of choice and your podium of belief. Just for now, in the moment of the present.
©2009-2016 Emily Woodham