“Redeeming the time, because the days are evil” rings in my ear, resonates in my heart. But what does it really mean? I ask God to help me redeem time, to live abundant, to operate productive and full-capacitated.
Funny. When I asked, I thought I’d receive some divine energy boost, I’d crank into higher gear, I’d streamline and pare down and tone and set myself with incredible determination.
I didn’t get what I thought I wanted.
I’m learning about what I really need.
Sun plays hide and seek through leaves, sparking off insect corpses sprayed across windshield glass. Satin dresses adorn velvet manikins in the dress shop, beckoning the soul to dress up and delight in beauty.
I sit behind the wheel, blank, dumb, unable to move. I scold myself for such foolishness, yet I’m incapacitated. I have time. I have options of how to spend my time. And I have no idea what to do.
I hate the dither—just do something! Even if it’s dumb! But I don’t want to act foolish, then regret it. Shame bubbles up, mixing into the vortex of my mind. All the stupid stuff I’ve done, I’ve said . . . don’t want to repeat that. Just make a decision and live with the consequences . . . . snap out of this limbo.
Time suspends when I realize I have time. It puts my life into slow-motion, and actions take on new meaning. This moment could be significant, special. It involves choice, not just instinct; creativity, not just habit; discernment, not just preferential or deferential default.
Am I so used to racing that I don’t know how to walk? So used to operating on a “top-up” mentality that I don’t know how to slow, and feast? Inhale and run, recharge and charge . . . is this really where I want to live?
The space tells me the answer. I don’t want to operate in this gear. I did once; I don’t have to now. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.
And I see my sin, the presumption that supposed this is how I should go about my life, not asking for help, because “I know how to do this.”
No I don’t. But I didn’t know that I didn’t know till the Space.