Time does many things. Standing still isn't one of them. If you think about it, it really only occupies the present for a single second before ticking ahead or tocking behind you. And unless you're waiting on something, its pace is fast—especially as you get older.
After mentioning unearthing time previously, I’ve also realized how much has escaped me in the last decade, and the number of significant events that have happened in that timeline. For starters, the obvious:
Our first major, life-halting pandemic in over 100 years (unexpected).
An eruption of civil rights activism. And the first African-American president (which, regardless of political leanings, is remarkable).
A new Mad Max movie was made (more please).
The Cubs won a World Series (unthinkable).
Guns N' Roses reunited for a tour (sadly, heroin addictions can be expensive... sad for the addiction, not the cost).
And the Miami Dolphins... well, some trends never change. But maybe… soon…
Then there's the personal stuff. Loved ones were lost. My kids became teenagers. Health stuff came about. Jobs changed. Friends moved away. Priorities evolved. Challenges arose. Ideas were forgotten. Plans got made. Then unmade. New things got purchased. Old things broke.
Amid all these events, it's been difficult to get a handle on how easily the time slipped by. Pink Floyd captures this thought well in a somber, even fearful take on the subject in their appropriately titled song:
"And then one day you find, 10 years have got behind you, no one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun."
Time can be cruel like that, perpetuating one of my big fears: Despite being surrounded by so much history being made, finding myself mired in irrelevance... Not in the failing to become famous kind of way... But rather with my faith. My family. Hopes and dreams.
We're very familiar with how it accumulates in turning calendar pages, logging hours in timesheets, and blowing out accrued candles on a cake. What we often overlook, despite it being obvious, is time being a constantly depleting resource—whatever adds behind us is taken from what remains ahead.
That sobering thought usually only comes about when we’re behind a deadline or a doctor gives a grim estimate while looking over medical files. Without plutonium-powered DeLoreans or a T.A.R.D.I.S. on hand, we can't do anything to change those circumstances or get any seconds back.
One of the most famous men of ancient history provided a good perspective to mitigate this inevitability, offering a remedy for Pink Floyd's regretful prose:
"Teach us to number our days aright, that we might gain a heart of wisdom."
A heart of wisdom doesn’t ignore the seconds going by or even record the time spent doing something. It prioritizes what time remains. Not to get more things done—but rather maximizing it to better connect relationally and spiritually. Instead of listening for starting guns and meeting deadlines, it learns to make time exceptionally relevant (and consequentially, us) with those who mean the most.
Forget the social media app. This is the kind of tick tock trend we need to go viral all the remaining days of our lives.
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