time after time
if time were a herb (parsley, sage, rosemary and time), would we be able to store it in bottles? and would time have different purposes, be able to be used to flavour different things? would we then be able to make the best of time, the most of time, upending the bottles we've encapsulated time in: into days as golden as pumpkin soup, a time for birth and growth; into days gloomy and chill, a sprinkling of happy time, warm comfort like steam. as if time, really a seasoning, could make our days better or worse.
then what of the bad times? the times to kill, to weep, to mourn? left to gather dust at the back of the shelf, never used, thrown out when musty?
but all time has a purpose, just like all herbs can be used to flavour something. a pinch of pensiveness into a day when you've not been thinking about much at all or been too absorbed in wordly matters. a day like a bowl of perfectly clear soup, the pensiveness reminding us of how human we are and how we must appreciate the mundaneness, the normalness of Everyday. the stuff miracles are made of, really.
or a dash of times of aspiration and desire, hunger and discontent, whichever way you want to see it, making the bowl of perfectly clear soup peppery, exciting.
and into the tangled, mess of spaghetti that's like life, that a woman's mind has been compared to, the time that is God's - a time of clarity, wisdom and understanding. humility, selflessness, and above all, love.
time is intangible, yet we speak of it as if it were tangible: the years months weeks days hours minutes seconds. we have already encapsulated time in the tick of our watch hands, the markings on the faces of clocks 12345678910112, dates, the numbers changing without fail at the stroke of midnight.
but time's just time. the sun rises and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises (ecclesiastes 1:5), the Earth orbits around the moon - what is dark and what is light are not night and day - unbound by anything, simply the state of what they are. what is the past? why do we say God's timing and then obsessively measure time, compare contrast and create boundaries for ourselves? how fast, how slow - it's just time, and once we realise that -
what would we realise?
that there's no reason to get flustered over things, that the past cannot return, that God's time is immeasurable and He does what He will and works in the continuum that is the universe with no reference to any clock or calender. what is a day, what is time, compared to eternity? who's to measure time by any standard, because everything that happened was in God's time?
He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. ecclesiastes 3:11.
time; incapable of measurement, encapsulation, being bandied about. yet, used to add to sunlight and subtract from darkness. wasted, made the most of, kept.
neither life nor time will wait upon an understanding of both. wouldn't you like to be able to live as if this was eternity, as if life with Jesus was now?
***
although i have a chinese paper due next wednesday - IN CHINESE - and time is, sadly, running out.
if time were a herb (parsley, sage, rosemary and time), would we be able to store it in bottles? and would time have different purposes, be able to be used to flavour different things? would we then be able to make the best of time, the most of time, upending the bottles we've encapsulated time in: into days as golden as pumpkin soup, a time for birth and growth; into days gloomy and chill, a sprinkling of happy time, warm comfort like steam. as if time, really a seasoning, could make our days better or worse.
then what of the bad times? the times to kill, to weep, to mourn? left to gather dust at the back of the shelf, never used, thrown out when musty?
but all time has a purpose, just like all herbs can be used to flavour something. a pinch of pensiveness into a day when you've not been thinking about much at all or been too absorbed in wordly matters. a day like a bowl of perfectly clear soup, the pensiveness reminding us of how human we are and how we must appreciate the mundaneness, the normalness of Everyday. the stuff miracles are made of, really.
or a dash of times of aspiration and desire, hunger and discontent, whichever way you want to see it, making the bowl of perfectly clear soup peppery, exciting.
and into the tangled, mess of spaghetti that's like life, that a woman's mind has been compared to, the time that is God's - a time of clarity, wisdom and understanding. humility, selflessness, and above all, love.
time is intangible, yet we speak of it as if it were tangible: the years months weeks days hours minutes seconds. we have already encapsulated time in the tick of our watch hands, the markings on the faces of clocks 12345678910112, dates, the numbers changing without fail at the stroke of midnight.
but time's just time. the sun rises and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises (ecclesiastes 1:5), the Earth orbits around the moon - what is dark and what is light are not night and day - unbound by anything, simply the state of what they are. what is the past? why do we say God's timing and then obsessively measure time, compare contrast and create boundaries for ourselves? how fast, how slow - it's just time, and once we realise that -
what would we realise?
that there's no reason to get flustered over things, that the past cannot return, that God's time is immeasurable and He does what He will and works in the continuum that is the universe with no reference to any clock or calender. what is a day, what is time, compared to eternity? who's to measure time by any standard, because everything that happened was in God's time?
He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. ecclesiastes 3:11.
time; incapable of measurement, encapsulation, being bandied about. yet, used to add to sunlight and subtract from darkness. wasted, made the most of, kept.
neither life nor time will wait upon an understanding of both. wouldn't you like to be able to live as if this was eternity, as if life with Jesus was now?
***
although i have a chinese paper due next wednesday - IN CHINESE - and time is, sadly, running out.
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