The Precious Commodity of Time — The Spacious Place

The older I get, the faster time seems to pass. Do you feel that way sometimes? As a child, a school year seemed like a lifetime. Summers were long and lazy. It felt like adulthood was an eternity away. Now I find myself asking, “How did it get to be Easter already?” or “Wasn’t I just at the dentist?”

I have a theory about this. A single year is a large percentage of a child’s life, but as we get older, a year becomes a much smaller portion of our total life, and it feels like the diminishing fraction that it is. We perceive the passage of time differently when we have many years under our belt.

As time seems to speed up, we may long for it to slow down. And maybe there is a purpose in this.

This week, Jesus and I took a long walk on the beach. I needed to clear my head and focus on his voice. As we walked, I thanked him for the many blessings I’m experiencing in my life right now. A daughter happily married. A son graduating from college. An amazing husband of almost 30 years. A recent family trip to Iceland with my mom. But I also thought about the painful things we’ve experience in the last several years, especially the loss of four loved ones in a very short window of time.

As I reflected on these things and listened to the crashing waves, there was a certain bittersweetness to it all. Ecclesiastes reminds us, there is “a time to be born and a time to die,” but also “a time to weep and a time to laugh.” (Ecc 3:2-4) Our existence here is short, with many ups and downs, but Jesus reminded me that even a single moment matters.

We cannot change the fact that our time here on earth is finite. But we can spend that time wisely, attuning our hearts to his presence.

At the end of 2024, God spoke the word “focus” individually to both me and my husband. We knew that was our word for 2025. Unfortunately, I can’t say my efforts to that end have been terribly successful. Standing on the beach, I inhaled the fresh wind and listened to the squawking seagulls. I pressed my feet into the warm sand, trying to be present, focusing on this moment God had given me. I also lamented my general state of distraction.

But Jesus didn’t chastise me. He never does. Instead he asked me a question.

What do you want? Ask me for what you want. It’s an awfully big question. When the Creator of the Universe asks you what you want, how do you respond?

One word came to mind. Peace. It almost sounded cliché, like the beauty pageant contest who vapidly shares her dream for world peace. But peace isn’t trite. It isn’t some idealistic pipe dream. I was standing on the beach having a conversation with Peace himself. So I prayed for deep peace for my family and for my own inner-being. I also prayed for peace in our broken world.

We so often think our lives have to look a certain way, to fit a certain mold, but the value of your life is not dependent upon what you do. A stillborn baby is just as loved by God as the person who passes the century mark. The person with all the degrees and distinctions is no more valuable to God than the person whose intellectual disability makes it impossible to complete a degree. And yet, time is precious. So if we are not here to reach some intangible marker of achievement, what is our purpose?

We are only given a short window in which to learn what this life has to teach us. What will we take away from his life? What is truly important?

As we get older, and time seems to speed up, we begin to understand the precious nature of time—perhaps in a way we didn’t experience when we were younger. Friends battling terminal illness have shared this perspective with me. Life looks different when you are acutely aware that there will be an end. This often brings a sense of clarity and focus on what really matters.

Will we learn to forgive easily? Will we learn to take risks? Will we learn to love wholeheartedly? Will we learn to cherish each day as a gift? These are the lessons we are here to learn and they are inextricably connected to peace.

As I asked Jesus for his peace, I felt him smile. Peace is always on his heart.

God’s treasure trove is endless. Peace is not impossible for him. Neither are joy or wisdom or hope. Don’t make the mistake of believing you have to earn these things. Simply ask. It is his delight to give you kingdom gifts.

What would you ask Jesus for today? What is the yearning of your heart?

These aren’t abstract questions. Jesus is really listening. He wants to hear your heart. What will you say?