We go about our days. They seem like a blur. Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. Months turn into years. Life comes at us faster and faster. As we get older, the pace of time seems to pick up. Life seems like a blur.
Time does not speed up of course. We just settle into routines. We keep busy. We move from one thing to another while we are thinking about the next thing and the next thing.
We have little space in our lives, like those endless summer days as children when we would spend an afternoon watching the clouds play across the blue screen of the sky. We race from one moment to the next. We fill our pauses with the white noise. Preoccupation and busyness, television and radio, noise and activity, the moments of life rush at us. They rush past us.
Our minds even race when we lie down to sleep or rise from the anxious edge of sleep in the middle of night, unsettled by waking, unable to fall back to sleep, unable to abide the quiet, unable to rest, unable to quiet our restless minds, unable to be still.
We throw the occasional payer up to God, like tossing candy at a parade. There is no stopping. Life must move on, and we move with it, carried on the current of the momentum of our lives.
Jesus took time out.
God gave us the Sabbath (rest) (Mark 2:27), but do we take it?
As children we are anxious to become adults. As adults, we long for those endless summer days.
Children play hard and sleep well. Adults hardly play and fitfully sleep.
Jesus said, “[U]nless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matt. 18:3)