I’m thinking about time. My time does not exactly belong to me. Sometimes I live in a state of taking for granted that there will always be more of it. The fact of the matter is that as C.S. Lewis puts it in "The Screwtape Letters," “The man can neither make, nor retain one moment of time; it all comes to him as pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and moon his chattels.” My assumption was that my time is my own, that I can do what I want with it, as long as I abide by the strings attached (spending enough of it working, being kind to others, getting chores done, ect.) But this just isn’t so. And maybe that’s a good thing.

I have no control over how much more time I have. Each second that passes just happens in the moment it happens, it cannot be retained. It’s not something I get to store up or cling to. But more importantly, even as it’s given to me, it isn’t mine any more than the sun and moon are. It comes and goes like a stream of water flowing over me, I cannot grasp it or cling to it because it is only lent to me moment by moment. It is wild and untamed and has plenty of caveats for the unpredictable, outside of our control. It was never meant to be entirely ours. We don’t have power over time. It marches to the beat of an external drum, it belongs to a greater power.

The idea that we are entitled to do what we want with our time is nonsensical, and yet we are free to do as we will please with each second that we are given. While we have time, and we’ve all had time (for example, right now, you’re using your time to read this) it functions as ours to do what with we please. We still can’t control it, but transient as it is by nature, it’s given to us. We have free will within time. In that way, our time is completely and totally ours.

I've come to conclude that time is a gift--each and every second.

And each gift needs a giver and time belongs to a higher power. Call this higher power what you will, I call him God. A rose by any other name is just as sweet, just as lovely, just as magnificent.

Thinking of time as being owned by God is a paradigm shift.

I think of attributing it to him rather than just taking it for granted. (This may have something to do with my Christian beliefs) I think of moments as his, to be used for his purposes, rather than mine, to be used to meet the strange requirements I’ve made up as conditions for having time to myself. How I’ve reduced a gift to a transaction is a subtle abomination. I would like to do differently in the future; I made a mistake. The entire system of ‘I need to work in order to deserve time to rest’ falls apart, and so do many sources of my own anxieties. (Needing to do this in my time, needing to do that in my time, ect) God owning my time defeats any thought of self-imposed obligations in order to earn something, for each second is freely given. The time I would spend worrying isn’t mine to worry in. The time I spend doing what I think I need to do or being how I think I need to be, the time I spend according to my own purposes, was never mine to take charge over.

Owning nothing, not even a second, might seem impoverishing, but it is the truth of the matter, and the truth has a way of setting us free. When God owns my time, it is filled with purpose. It becomes centered on him and revolves around him, like a planet around a sun, rather than me trying to orbit myself in a self-centered tailspin. Being focused on something good and constructive is a giant relief from anxiety and pretty much all other sins my head gets caught up in. I am belonging to something bigger, something lovely, every second of every day.

It also changes my day to day life, when I think of the higher power attached to now. Instead of wishing my life was different, I am forced to think in the present moment, because I am here, now, not somewhere else. I can ponder all I want and wish for different situations, but in the end, I exist in the moment. I am called to exist in the moment, in reality, a certain way. Not caught up in futile dreams of something being different, but in the present, where things are exactly as they are. Basically, I’m called to make the best of the situation I’m in. I’m called to spend my time (and by that I mean the time that is given to me, second by second, not time I can control or own) effectively, not according to my purposes, but according to higher ones.

So the next time I am worried, or working too hard (or not hard enough), or just sitting around, doing nothing, I hope I’ll remember that my seconds belong to the Lord. (I find that reflecting on the truth is much more effective than trying to change behavior. When I reflect on the truth, my behavior and thoughts tend to change themselves. But that’s a whole other can of worms I want to rant on.) I hope I remember that time is an ordinary, extraordinary gift. I hope I remember that it has purpose. From now on, I want to act according to that.