Fleeting

There is a great danger in moving too fast. Humans beings were not designed to move at the pace and scale that modern life demands. The near-constant inundation with scheduling, tasks, assignments, responsibilities, and the expectations of living in a connected, always-on world has taken its toll on our souls. We don’t take time to be still, to listen, to breathe, or be present in any given moment.

This scattered approach to life leaves us feeling hollow and restless—constantly in search of the next thing. Where will our next fulfillment fix come from? An app on our phone? Our vocation? The depth of our relational network? Humble boasting in our daily achievements?

I say all this because today is the fourth anniversary of our son’s death. I awoke today without a clue of his passing. I am far too transfixed on solving the day’s problems (keeping our baby from getting sick with the flu; helping my wife; scrambling to find time to work and make money; keep myself healthy so I can still hold on to a fading dream).

None of these concerns are bad things. They are all unarguably good things. But nearly all of them involve dwelling in the past, or stressing about what the rest of today or tomorrow will bring. Neither direction helps me to live in the present with the memory of my son.

It dawned on me this morning as I was preparing breakfast.

Today is the day we remember our son. It is his day. This time is sacred. It is time for us to live in the present with his memory, and let yesterday fade and the threats of tomorrow cease.

Throughout human history God did certainly inhabit physical spaces and set them apart as places that would involve sacred rhythms and memory. In many ways this mirrors the pioneer cemetery our son is buried in. There is a sacredness to that place because of the memory that we hold there. That ground holds his body until the resurrection.

But the first thing God sanctified was not a place. It was time. He carved out a time to let everything else lie fallow. To cease from working and striving. To exist in the present, and enjoy God’s presence.

This picture at the top of this post perfectly captures this idea.

We can waste it worrying about what is coming, or looking back in regret on all the failings of yesterday.

Or we can be present today in the sacred space that God has given us. We can be present with him. We can be present with our family on days that are hard and heartbreaking. We can be present with the memory of those that have died and left us.

I do think it is healthy to try to carve out a sabbath day every week. To let our minds and our hands rest from work. To enjoy the beauty of God in a particular way.

But it is clear from the Book of Hebrews in the New Testament that God has invited us into a “sabbath life”, a whole new of relating to him continually by entering His restful, non-anxious presence.

Time is precious.
Time is sacred.

Let’s not waste it dwelling in spaces that we can’t change and that don’t offer us fullness of life.

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