spectators
Where does time go? Does anyone else want to know or is it just my bizarre way of thinking. I mean, is it recorded like some great eternal TiVo, to be played back for you when you die? Or is it just erased to make room for more episodes, kind of like some old VHS tape you might find last minute when you’re desperate to record a show you didn’t know would be on. Will it ever come back around in a déjà vu moment or will it drop into a black hole. I’ve read that sound waves travel indefinitely through space. I wonder about time moments.
The sound thing bothers me because there are many things I’ve said that I would never want to hear again. I have similar feelings, I guess, towards time that I’ve wasted and would be far too painful to have to live again. For sure there are moments that I’d love to experience one more time. That’s not what I’m referring to. I’m thinking more along the lines of an, Ebeneezer Scrooge type, replaying of my life where I would only be a spectator. To that end I wonder, are there spectators who now view my life and all it’s moments? My understanding of faith and God’s word would lead me to believe that there are. Great clouds of witnesses, I believe, made up of those faithful who have gone on before me, are watching. I wonder if they act like parents at their child’s soccer game, running up and down the sidelines yelling for me to make the play, kick the ball, run faster, while I race back and forth, totally oblivious to their well intentioned directions. I imagine them, at times, yelling at Satan dressed as the umpire, while he throws red cards all about the field. I hope that, at the end of the day, they’re proud, like those parents, no matter how well I played the game.
I hate to think of how much time and how many moments that I’ve wasted in just this past week. I have friends that are battling serious illness, and I can only imagine how precious each moment must be when you’re not really sure how many you have. It’s hard for me to dwell on the fact that at my age, I could be counting moments. At any age, moments should be counted. One very glaring message that I encounter, whenever I combine the truths of God’s word with the reality of the lives I intersect with everyday, is the message that time is a luxury that we can’t afford to waste or dismiss readily. Procrastination is the message of Satan. Don’t worry, he whispers, there will always be tomorrow, you’ll have that moment again. I do believe that we’ll get to see a replaying of our life’s moments one day. But on that day, we’ll only be spectators.
The sound thing bothers me because there are many things I’ve said that I would never want to hear again. I have similar feelings, I guess, towards time that I’ve wasted and would be far too painful to have to live again. For sure there are moments that I’d love to experience one more time. That’s not what I’m referring to. I’m thinking more along the lines of an, Ebeneezer Scrooge type, replaying of my life where I would only be a spectator. To that end I wonder, are there spectators who now view my life and all it’s moments? My understanding of faith and God’s word would lead me to believe that there are. Great clouds of witnesses, I believe, made up of those faithful who have gone on before me, are watching. I wonder if they act like parents at their child’s soccer game, running up and down the sidelines yelling for me to make the play, kick the ball, run faster, while I race back and forth, totally oblivious to their well intentioned directions. I imagine them, at times, yelling at Satan dressed as the umpire, while he throws red cards all about the field. I hope that, at the end of the day, they’re proud, like those parents, no matter how well I played the game.
I hate to think of how much time and how many moments that I’ve wasted in just this past week. I have friends that are battling serious illness, and I can only imagine how precious each moment must be when you’re not really sure how many you have. It’s hard for me to dwell on the fact that at my age, I could be counting moments. At any age, moments should be counted. One very glaring message that I encounter, whenever I combine the truths of God’s word with the reality of the lives I intersect with everyday, is the message that time is a luxury that we can’t afford to waste or dismiss readily. Procrastination is the message of Satan. Don’t worry, he whispers, there will always be tomorrow, you’ll have that moment again. I do believe that we’ll get to see a replaying of our life’s moments one day. But on that day, we’ll only be spectators.
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