The sun is shining this morning, and I am enjoying it. Last night, the half-moon shone, and I enjoyed it, too. The sun does not belong to me, and neither does the moon. They are not my possessions. They are not ‘my sun’ and ‘my moon.’ They are pure gift.
Ah, but what about time? Already this morning, I have felt the pull toward possessiveness—‘my time’ stolen by an unexpected phone call, and then household chores, and then a visit from a neighbor, and then a meeting start-time delayed. . . .
“[N]othing throws [a person] into a passion so easily as to find a tract of time which he reckoned on having at his own disposal unexpectedly taken from him. It is the unexpected visitor (when he looked forward to a quiet evening), or the friend’s talkative wife (turning up when he looked forward to a tête-à-tête with the friend), that throw him out of gear. . . . They anger him because he regards his time as his own and feels that it is being stolen. . . . The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and moon as his chattels. . . .” C. S. Lewis
Father, part of me does believe that today’s twenty-four hours are pure gift. Please help me to practice living out that belief, so that, little by little, I can learn to watch with playful curiosity what You will do with Your time each day.
“Lord, I do believe. Help my unbelief!” Mark 9:24