Islands of time
Islands of time
Once I say that time is a stewardship issue, a gift provided by God, I need to stop saying that there isn't enough of it. Time is lavished upon me.
In the afternoon I walked across the street to a neighbor who recently lost his wife, and I offered to buy coffee one morning. Four minutes.
Last night I knelt by my daughter's bed and told her how Jesus called the bent-over woman to the front of the synagogue. She had seen only the dirt for 18 years. "Come here," Jesus said. She lumbered awkwardly through the crowd of men. Friendly carpenter hands rested on her back. In a moment she looked into his face. "Imagine that, Abby," I said. She gave me a smile as big as the sun. We sang a song and prayed. Six minutes.
What we've done with time
The point? What was truly memorable about yesterday--the pieces that most contributed to joy and purposeful living--fit into about 15 minutes. It overwhelms me to observe how these small islands of time contribute in vast disproportion to the meaning of my life.
Other things seem like they matter:
- Social conventions.
- Living up to (or collapsing under) the expectations of people who have lesser missions in mind for me.
- Countless worthwhile functions for which I'm not particularly gifted.
- A straining for that peace I think will come when loose ends are finally tied up
.
All this frenetic activity--this mass of urgent things--wants to be the bushel under which my light is covered. These duties with some value want to keep me from making the real contribution my soul longs to make.
I know clearly what my life is for: letting the Word of Christ dwell in me, connecting with people, speaking gently of Jesus, lifting a neighbor's burden, engaging faithful allies in this sweet ministry, pulling a child onto my lap. This is a "time of grace." It is for knowing Christ and making him known.
But to analyze the time actually spent directly in this mission? I'm not sure I could bear it. Let's just guess that some time-experts might be right: 80 percent of the meaningful things I accomplish is coming from 20 percent of my time. If true, it suggests enormous possibilities for having more impact with my life. But what actually happens is that 80 percent of my time, though it seems to be accomplishing something, is really standing in the way of things that matter more. I try to prioritize. But some things matter to a degree I am rarely aware of--in a way I can scarcely imagine. Until I think of forever.
What God did with time
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