Time Traveller

The clock ticks mercilessly today.  In fact,  this summer seems to be measured in seconds, not days and hours, and I can’t keep up.

And along with the summer, despite its long and lazy days, my anxiety-my companion in life – thrums just below the surface.  I’ve been struggling in this season with having a faith that goes beyond the plastered bravado smile and the Polly-anna “God is good.” I’ve been struggling to see time as something other than chronological.

It’s hard though to understand how God keeps time, particularly when everything in life seems to have a DATE DUE stamped right on its front.  The milk, the butter, the yogurt.  Even my mailbox brings time-sensitive-this-needs-your-attention-if-you-like-hot-showers-tidings.

What I’d really like to do is take my kitchen clock and smash it on the floor until the numbers and hands go careening, helter-skelter in order to slow things down long enough to breathe. I want to shred my calendars and live blissfully ignorant of time, live only by the rising and the setting of the sun.   I want to slow things down so that for just one moment I don’t feel like I’m drowning in past-due and overdue moments.

When the tears come unbidden this afternoon, when they drip into my lap I decide I can no longer muster the strength to muddle through one more day in which I try and keep the pretense from collapsing in around me.  I curl up on the couch, with the blanket shrouding me in blissful ignorance and decide that sleep might be better than facing the rest of this day.  I really just want to give up, declare the day over and hope for better tomorrow.

Yet when I close my eyes and try and settle my breath I can still hear my heart whooshing in my ears because I know.  I know that I need to find another way, a way that brings me closer to my Creator, a way that has me resting in His arms not resting in my own self-pity.

With my eyes half closed and long, gulping breaths I ask God to join me and with a whisper He reminds me that He’s never left me.  With a whisper He reminds me that I don’t wait for Him, I wait with Him.  As my heart-beat slows He reminds me that His time is perfect every single time.  He reminds me that time is but numbers on a clock and days are but little squares on calendars and that His moments in the middle of my ugly-beautiful day are where I am living my purpose.

“Time becomes not  just something to get through or manipulate or manage, but the arena of God’s work with us.” – Henri Nouwen

God’s time is the perfect time all the time.

God’s time.  Perfect time.  All time.

 


12 Comments

  1. Christine

    Thank you for sharing…i know those days too…where getting lost in a movie, someone elses stress is an escape from my own… Thank you for reminding me that He is with me through those times….

  2. Friend, I had a 3-day weekend just like this last weekend. And you know what? God met me right there in a heap and He let me be human.
    Love your honesty this morning.

  3. Beautiful post, Tonya! We both wrote on God’s timing today…always seems like a confirmation to me when He’s speaking similar words to my friends. Waiting is hard…but He is faithful and we have to stand confident of that!

    • He is faithful in the waiting… and even though my legs get a little shaky in their confidence I will continue to stand firm… Thank you friend.

  4. I know full well the desire for time-less days … wide open space for me to rest and just be. So glad God met you in your need yesterday, friend. Praying for your day!

  5. Beautiful. I have been there, and I know how it can feel. I also know that sometimes that feeling of just being with God is what we long for. Breathe. Let Him hold you, and trust Him to help you through this season.

  6. Oh my friend… there will come a day…

    So thankful that in the meantime, when we are constricted and confined to it… that our God works inside and outside of time!

    I love you so!

    • Thank you friend… I too am grateful God is beyond time… could. you. imagine. living life without that knowledge? Neither can I.

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