Between the start and the finish lines, a lot of stuff tries to cram its way into our days. Some things are in our control and some things are not.
But what we can decide is how we respond to it.
One of our grandsons loves reading the Lord of the Rings trilogy. As a result, he recently picked author J. R. R. Tolkien for a school project. The report allowed him to see the experiences that formed Tolkien's heart, his worldview, and his faith. Even in childhood, Tolkien endured some really hard steps that shaped his astonishing fiction.
He concluded his presentation with a quotation from the beloved character Gandalf: "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."
In this hour. In this day. In the rest of our lives. "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives," once stated author Annie Dillard.
During that visit with our grandchildren, we played more than a few rounds of Scrabble. At times, the words seemed to rise up and connect triumphantly by themselves. But sometimes -- well, what do you do when all you have been granted are 4 letter U's? For that impossible situation and other unappreciated letters, we humorously re-quoted Gandalf: All we have to decide is what to do with the tiles that are given us.
God has granted me this day, this situation, these particular "tiles" What is my response to them?
I don't have to have everything figured out, know the
outcome...or even all the steps. I just need to remain faithful to God,
in the ordinary, extraordinary, and the unexpected, and even when nothing
appears to be happening at all. Because being faithful is never
just nothing, devoid of sacred purpose or hope. We just cannot see that time ripening yet.
My biggest concern is not the enormous philosophical "what am I doing with my life?" But what am I choosing to do with these next few available minutes? Not limited to achievements, but what kind of person am I choosing to become?
It is no mistake that God opens
the dawn with splendor every morning and closes up the day with a spectacular sunset every evening, whether we witness it or not. Because that
is how God sees every one of our days. Not just another start and finish line. Never just another day. Not
just another blank page to fill. But celebrating every minute, precious in His sight.
I learned when our daughters were so small -- at one point with three children three-and-a-half and younger-- that life is divided into 10 minute increments.
I am still amazed at what I was able to do with the tiniest pockets of time when I knew that was all the
time I had, or all the time I was going to get that day. Order my day, I
would pray. Not to cram as much as I could in the day, but to be intentional with my time and mindful of God. In that incredibly busy season with toddlers, just getting the laundry folded was like winning a gold medal. But even more so, sitting on the couch, reading stories with a child in my lap. Not making time for that too, but seizing it.
Bring Your glory into this day, O LORD. Start to Finish.
Knowing in Your sight,
there are no insignificant moments.
But the life-changing is for us to be faithful
with the time
--and the tiles--
that we do have
right now.
What am I choosing to do
with what has been given me?
How am I choosing to respond?
God is doing a mighty work
in our lives that is
beyond our comprehension.
Never just an ordinary day
unless we treat it that way.
Never just a random set of Scrabble tiles,
but opportunity spelled heroically
in a thousand different ways,
with a triple word score.
God does not just fill our time
but fulfills it.
God redeems
not just our moments,
but our lives
start to finish.
O LORD God,
You have only begun to show Your servant
Your greatness and Your mighty hand.
Deuteronomy 3. 24
No comments:
Post a Comment