So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalms 90:12
My phone died. And just like all those commercials advertising backups for your computer, I lost a lot of data, namely my pictures. These weren’t just any pictures, they were pictures of the first month of life of my first child; they were pictures of our vacation to Mexico; and, oh, a number of cat photos the world will never see again! All my pictures and screenshots of the past two years were gone.
Now I admit, I was partly to blame for this loss. My phone, while not quite “old” (it was still under two years) had been starting to be a little glitchy. It would sporadically decide it was tired and just turn off. It would vibrate like I was getting messages while none appeared—until I would power it down and restart it. Sometimes I had to restart it two or three times. My husband said we should make sure everything was downloaded to the Cloud and I agreed but we never took any action. I felt sure there would be time to do this. I kept thinking that before it finally died, it would give me a warning—a kind of false-alarm crash which would be scary, but we would then have the opportunity to download everything before it officially crashed. Unfortunately, my phone didn’t play by these rules—it just died.
I got a new phone and anxiously waited to see if, miraculously, everything would transfer with no loss. The setup process completed, my husband handed me my phone and I touched the photo app hoping against hope that all of the pictures I had taken of the early days with my son would be there. They weren’t. It was like my phone had amnesia. Everything from the past two years, apparently my storage had reached maximum capacity, was gone. Looking at it you would think the past two years had never happened.
Of course, the first thing I thought of was the loss of photos of my son which, if I am being honest, isn’t the loss it first sounds like as I sent the really cute photos to my family and friends and can recoup them by having them sent back to me. In addition, my husband still has all his photos. The second loss was all the screenshots and pictures of notes I had taken over the years of things I wanted to be sure not to forget, recipes, quotes, funny memes—gone. Then, of course, I realized how many photos disappeared of my first babies—my kitties and my doggie, and then I realized that all of my photos from trips we had taken over that past two years were gone.
Naturally all of this got me thinking … how much of this “loss” would really have lasting value? How much would end up mattering that I lost in the end? The photos of my son I will miss. The pictures of the good times on vacation, I would miss. A few of the kitty photos will also be missed … but the rest? I haven’t missed them yet.
Just as my phone’s storage was full of lots of things that didn’t really matter, I wonder: Are our lives the same?
How do we spend the time of our lives? There is the staggering statistic that the average American spends three hours a day watching TV, three hours! Is TV watching that important to us? Most say no, but still spend the three hours watching anyway. We spend one-eighth of our day doing something that hardly matters to us—we are spending this with the currency of time, the only non-renewable resource on this planet. We are wasting the time of our lives.
I thought there would be time “later” to download all the photos on my phone. What other things in our lives do we think there will be time for later?
When we look back over the years of our lives, how much of it is spent doing what we really want to? I was listening to a podcast by an author by the name of Oliver Burkeman who was being interviewed about his new book and the gist of his quote was that we wait to start the thing we’ve said we have always wanted to do, in part, because we think there will be time later; we don’t have to face the fact that the time of our lives is not infinite.
The time of our lives is not infinite, yet we get so caught up pursuing things that don’t matter and which are not truly important to us. I lost two years of photos on my phone and most of them didn’t really matter and I’m guessing the same might be more or less true for you, but what if we erased the last two years of our lives? Would we miss it? More importantly, would others miss it? Or have we been so self-centered that our time has revolved just around us and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference to others if it had never happened. Have we spent our time wisely and invested in people, things, and in places that will make a difference in eternity?
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Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:4 ESV
Well there I was, in active labor with my first child and stranded with my husband in our car alongside the road. Maybe I should back up and give you a little more of the story.
I was 39 weeks pregnant and we knew I could have this baby any day. This particular Saturday morning I hauled myself with my very large stomach out of bed to get started with my day. I didn’t get very far when my water broke! I called out to awaken my husband and announced that this was the day—we were having a baby! He, of course, was a bit frantic as I imagine most first-time fathers would be, to be awakened first thing in the morning with the knowledge that the baby was coming! As he started wildly pulling clothes out of his dresser, he was listing off at a frenetic pace all the things that had to happen before we could leave for the hospital but that he would take care of all of it—that I just needed to worry about myself. I looked at him whipping the clothes out of his dresser and asked him if he wanted to shower. He stopped dead in his tracks then said he thought that would be a good idea, and proceeded to numbly stumble out of the room towards the shower.
As he left to do that, I called the number the nurse had written down for me to call if I should find myself in labor after hours. I introduced myself and told the lady who answered the situation—there was a long pause and then she replied that she was with dermatology. Since I would rather not have my first child in a dermatologist’s office, I took her up on her offer to connect me to the correct office!
Finally, I got through to the doctor on-call and he told me to get ready and come in as soon as possible. We finished getting ourselves together and left for the hospital. While traveling, I was on the phone with my parents informing them that I was bailing on having dinner with them that night, that I had decided to have my baby instead, when the car started making an ominous thumping sound. My husband coasted over to the side of the road and put the four-way lights on. Our car had broken down on the side of the road on the way to the hospital while I was undoubtedly in active labor.
It is at times like this when you start to understand how babies are born on the side of the road in a car! My husband was a little stressed, to say the least.
Frantically, my husband yanked out his cell phone, we panicked briefly as to whether there was service on this stretch of road, but luckily there was enough service to make a phone call. We were about 10 minutes from home so my husband punched in our neighbor’s number and explained the situation before politely asking (or should I say frantically begging) him to come get us. He graciously agreed to save the day and within minutes he arrived to chauffeur us to the hospital where our baby was to be delivered. If our neighbor hadn’t been able to help us, we might have had a ride in a police car or in an ambulance!
On that morning, more than most, we were specifically reminded of how much we need others in our lives. This is a lesson we have learned, and I’m sure will continue to learn, as we try to raise this little baby into a full-fledged adult. God didn’t make us solitary creatures. He made us to need others. He made us to be in community—that’s the whole concept around church! If you don’t have any sort of community around you, I urge you to take the first step. Join a small group, ask someone to meet for coffee, or even just smile at the person sitting next to you this Sunday. Take a step even if it is a small step to support someone else and be prepared to be amazed by the awesome people with whom God has already surrounded you!
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They say there are two kinds of people in this world: starters and finishers. Starters get a thrill out of starting new things; they love planning to start new things, they love researching what it will take to start these new things, and they love buying the needed items for their new venture—most of all they love starting the new thing! Because starters get a thrill out of starting new things they tend to start a lot of new things but often have a hard time completing any one thing.
Finishers on the other hand, love to finish things; they hate having a bunch of loose ends. They want to start a task and see it through to completion. I’ve heard that finishers are the ones who finish their body lotion down to the last drop and take great pleasure in having used every bit of lotion in that bottle, whereas if you look in the cabinet of a starter they have about 50 bottles with just one or two pumps of lotion missing!
I am a starter. Talk about starting something new and I am all excited about it! I want to quit what I’m working on and go all in on the next thing … until, of course, the next new thing arises! I wish I was a finisher. At least I am aware of this tendency so I can work to do better at finishing what I start, but my natural inclination is to start all the new things, and maybe finish one or two of them.
On the other hand, I think Paul was a finisher. The other day I was reading my bible and I was reading Acts 14 where Paul and Barnabas were in Lystra and some of the Jews followed them there from Antioch and Iconium where Paul and Barnabas had just been. The Jews started to stone Paul, driving him out of the city and leaving him for dead as they returned to the city. After they leave, Paul drags himself up, dusts himself off and heads back into the city- definitely not something any starter would want to do! But here’s the thing that really got me: the Bible says Paul and Barnabas then left the next day! The next day!! If I had been run out of a city and I had planned to leave the next day I would say, “Well I almost died, they ran me off leaving me just shy of the amount of time I was going to be there, I think that’s good enough!” Meanwhile what I’d be wanting to do is to call down curses on the people who tried to kill me- but this is a good illustration of why I am not Paul.
God calls each of us to certain tasks in this life. I believe what He calls us to is not half as important as how we go about doing what He has called us to. “The end of something is better than the beginning,” we are told in Ecclesiastes 7:8. But that is the hard part—especially for us starters! We need to cultivate the grit and perseverance to stick with something and follow through with it. We need to make sure that we are cultivating Paul-like follow through. The kind of perseverance where, even if we really, really don’t want to do the thing, we do it anyway because we know God has called us to it and how we follow through with the task, be it big or small, is one of the best ways we can honor Him.
I’m gonna do it. I am going to tattle on my husband’s side of the family—they are picky eaters. When I say that they are picky eaters, I mean they are extremely picky eaters! They are good sports; they don’t fuss when I make something that to my mind is pretty safe but to them is adventurous and not altogether pleasing. Nonetheless, the fact remains that they simply don’t love many different foods, especially if these foods have spice or too many combined flavors. Just because they are good sports doesn’t mean that I’m a good sport. Oh no! I usually tease them and “lovingly” give them a hard time, but just the other day I was thinking about how one of my now-favorite foods was not too long ago, one of the very few foods that I just couldn’t stand.
I am not a picky eater. At all. I haven’t been in a situation where I have been tested to eat anything as daring as insects but I was the child, and my mother will confirm this, that was taking smoked oysters and beets in their lunch to daycare as a toddler. However, there were a few foods that I simply had not been able to muster a taste for—among these were pineapple.
I had tried pineapple a few times throughout the years and just didn’t like it. It didn’t make sense—I like other fruits and tart foods but every time I tried pineapple, I just didn’t like it. It was the rehearsal dinner, the day before our wedding, there was pineapple as part of the dessert. I looked at it and couldn’t remember the last time I had tried pineapple so I went for it. Still didn’t like it. The next day was our wedding and it was such a busy, fun day! Someone put a bag of fruit together for us before we left the reception. I was munching on the fruit on the way home when I tasted a piece of fruit that I couldn’t quite place. It was dark so I couldn’t see what I was eating and my new husband did not like the light on in the car, so I just kept munching away. We stopped to get gas and I turned on the light to look at what this fruit was that I was really liking but couldn’t place—pineapple! Ever since that day I have been a pineapple lover.
I had tried pineapple the night before and hadn’t liked it, but in all reality it was my preconceived notions about pineapple that prevented me from liking it. Given the opportunity to try it blindly, I really liked it! That’s the problem with preconceived notions though—we can’t just give them up! I wanted to like pineapple. The night before I tried the pineapple and found that I still didn’t like it. We have preconceived notions that affect our spiritual life too.
So many times we approach trusting in God as a scary thing and for sure it can be! We don’t know what He will ask us to do, where He may send us, or what He may ultimately require of us. So we hold back. What do we miss out on by holding onto these preconceived ideas? I am the worst offender of looking at what could be the worst possible outcome of things (I’m a realist not a pessimist!), but we rob ourselves of so much joy and do a disservice to God every time we hold out on wholeheartedly trusting Him because we fear what may happen if we do. We don’t stop to think about how much could go right and what joy we could find in communion with Him if only we would stop trying to be in control and instead release those fears. As Jesus said in Matthew 7:11, “If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask Him! “ (NIV)
Maybe it’s time to stop trying to grab the reins and instead hand them over to Him. Maybe, just like with me and the pineapple, we will find that we actually like the communion that comes with totally trusting Him.
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Growing up, I loved going to youth group. My best friend also attended and it was a chance to hangout and catch up with her during the week when we otherwise would not have seen each other. My mom helped with the youth group and many times we would end up picking up kids on our way. I was always fine with leaving our house a little early to pick up anyone else, but I remember one time we were going to bring three kids from one family to youth with us that evening, but because of scheduling, it was going to work much better if we would have them join us for dinner, and then head over to youth group. I wasn’t crazy about this idea. Looking back now I’m not sure why—from what I can remember, I think it was because while near me in age and we got along for the most part, but they could be … a little loud. And wild. As an only child I didn’t like loudness. I still don’t! I did not like the thought of the kids coming over and being in my space, with my stuff, and turning my home from a calm, relatively quiet place, to a loud exciting place—even if only for an hour. (I should have been born a little old lady, as that is the temperament I tend towards naturally!)
Oh I was all about being hospitable and taking kids to church as long as it didn’t demand anything of me; after all, I couldn’t even drive so this all fell on my mother’s shoulders! But when it came to truly being hospitable and inviting people into my home and causing me discomfort, I wanted nothing to do with it!
I was reading An Altar in This World by Barbara Brown Taylor and one of the sentences caught my attention. She said, “Do we stick God in a church in lieu of letting Him stay at our house?” How often do we do this; we go to church, compartmentalize God into a short time slot on Sunday mornings (if we bother to even go to church), and then we go about our lives. We might attend a church function or donate at a benefit but that’s how we want it. We want it on our terms. We want to go to God rather than inviting Him into our lives—and I mean wholeheartedly into our lives. We want to go to the soup kitchen, not have someone in need come knocking at our door. We want to go on missions trips to others, not invite refugees into our homes. We want to be hospitable and like Christ; as long as we are comfortable with it. We do not want our boundaries between church and home crossed. We don’t want our spiritual lives crossed with our personal lives. How messed up have we gotten?
Jesus was the absolute expert in getting into people’s lives. He wouldn’t allow there to be just church time and personal time. And, He definitely would not stand for false religiousness. He ruined the boundaries. He broke the rules. Remember Zacchaeus, the wee little man? He was a tax collector, and the holy people didn’t associate with them. Tax collectors were often cheaters and liars, collecting more tax than was required and keeping the extra for themselves. Jesus didn’t play by these norms. He didn’t allow people to stay in their comfortable little boxes. Jesus saw Zacchaeus up in the tree waiting to catch a glimpse of Jesus so Jesus called out to him, and told Zacchaeus that He was going to Zacchaeus’s house for dinner!
I think we often overlook the fact that it was probably not always comfortable for the people involved to have Jesus invite himself over to their house. While I’m sure they were excited to have Jesus in their home, Jesus did get into their business! I’m sure there were many times when people wanted to shut the door and not allow Him in. They wanted to maintain their privacy and not be questioned. They wanted to stay in their comfort zone.
Jesus does not call us to a life of comfort and ease. Many times full out ministry necessitates being uncomfortable. How do we truly love others unless we let some of the guards down? How do we truly connect if we never ask the uncomfortable questions that open the way for real dialogue? Are we willing to get uncomfortable in order to be more like Christ?
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Then the angel spoke to the women. “Don’t be afraid!” he said. I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He isn’t here! He is risen from the dead, just as he said would happen. Come, see where his body was lying.
Matthew 28: 5-6 NLT
Last week my parents had to put down one of the cats we have had since I was in high school; she had a good life, but still we hated to lose her. Even though I don’t live there anymore, I still keep thinking about how a week ago we still had Gertie with us. … That’s how it goes, isn’t it? I remember when we lost my grandfather, how I couldn’t believe that just 24 hours ago he had been with us, then 48 hours, then a week, then a month… Time keeps going but we never get our loved ones back on this side of eternity.
I imagine that’s how the disciples felt the day Jesus was crucified. They had just had the Passover meal with Him the night before—how was He now hanging on the cross? Did they feel silly for arguing about who would be first in Heaven? Did they feel betrayed because what kind of Savoir allows Himself to be killed? I think about the three disciples that were with Him in the garden (Peter, James and John)—were they beating themselves up that they hadn’t been able to stay awake in the garden the night before with Jesus? And Peter, oh especially overly enthusiastic Peter, who had declared that he loved Jesus, that he would never forsake him. Before even a couple hours had gone by, Peter had denied him three times. How must he have felt watching the one he loved so much hang on that cross knowing that he had denied him!
The disciples must have counted the days, wandering around in a kind of shocked trance, not fully believing that Jesus was really gone. But then comes the miracle! Jesus didn’t stay dead! Can you imagine having Mary run up to you shouting that she had seen Jesus! That’s the news they had longed for but no one rises from the dead! Still they followed her and found the tomb empty!
It always surprises me that the disciples were so slow to believe when, I mean, this stuff was foretold to them in their scriptures—and by Jesus! Still, we are human, we are familiar with the natural rhythms of this earth, and the natural order of things is that the dead stay dead. But Jesus is not natural. He is not of this earth. He is King of Kings, Lord of Heaven and Earth—and not confined to the rules of this world!
Let us rejoice this Easter in the knowledge that we serve a savoir that death cannot control and that because of Him, those who choose to serve Him, never have to say goodbye for forever.
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