Consider Your Time

“Consider Your Time”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 + Ash Wednesday + 17 February 2010
DePaul University
D. Ross-Jones

Have you ever been asked the question, “What are you giving up for Lent?” For some individuals and groups, the tradition of giving things up represents self-sacrifice and sharing in the pain of God’s sacrifice of his Son, Jesus, for the sake of humanity.

Some others emphasize adding something during Lent – a spiritual practice, a new discipline for one’s life. This, also, may involve no small amount of self-sacrifice, depending on the additional discipline.

Of course, for many of us Protestants here, Lent is similar to any other church season: a time when the preacher’s sermon themes change, beginning with ashen marks on foreheads and culminating in Easter baskets, but otherwise business as usual.

Once, when someone asked me about my own Lenten discipline, I responded: “I’m giving up Lent for Lent.” Removing pop or sweets from my diet, committing to a more regular routine of exercise, or dedicating additional hours to my academic studies didn’t quite equate to the sense of Jesus’ life-giving sacrifice – in fact, it seemed somewhat insulting. Likewise, another year when I attempted to add a spiritual discipline to my life, I found myself running up against that which of which we all have a limited, rationed amount:

Time.

I clocked myself, using a timer on my computer, how much time I dedicate to a number of tasks each day, including reports, reading, catching up on the news, watching shows on Hulu and Netflix, and of course Facebook, Twitter, and what’s with this new Google Buzz? I won’t share the number, but let’s just agree that it surprised me to see the raw data.

And then I began to think of the other ongoing responsibilities: classes, meetings, maintaining friendships and relationships with other people. Throw in volunteering, the occasional movie night, travels, and everything else and it boggles my mind how much is accomplished in the mere 744 hours of each month.

Time. We’re constantly running around it – never having enough of it, always dreaming about it.

Time. It is endless, yet finite, and on this day we are called to intentionally think about how we’re using it.

The average woman born in the United States today will, by God’s grace, live 80 years, while the average man will take 75 trips around the sun. How do we use that time? To what are we called?

I recently turned 25. Its one of those milestone birthdays – at 25 I’m well into young adulthood, living entirely on my own. My car insurance rates dropped, and I’m getting carded less and less. My body tells me I’m no longer 15, but yet 35 seems so far away. I know more about the limits of what I can and cannot do, yet I still have the promise of young living, that young soft voice in the back of my head that tells me I’m invincible.

In spite of knowing about health insurance, 401(k)’s, having a car registered in my name, I still vividly remember being dropped off by my parents in front of Eisenhower Elementary School for my first day of Kindergarten. My teacher was Mrs. Thompson, I was in classroom 114, and I took bus 14 home at noon when class was dismissed and my mom would be at the door, waiting for me with a hot bowl of my favorite meal: homemade macaroni and cheese. That first day we wore giant nametags on string around our necks, had strawberry milk and fruit at snack time, and made pasta artwork that was drying overnight that we could take home the next day.

A Kindergartener’s not supposed to be an adult – when did this happen?!

I think of December, when I had the wonderful opportunity to participate in the Parliament of the World’s Religions, meeting in Melbourne, Australia. I met with an Aboriginal Australian artist named Jeremy Donovan, though in his Aboriginal language his name is Yongurra Yerin, which means “long-necked turtle.” We talked for hours after his presentation, the two of us, about the relationship between the individual and time. The beauty of the long-necked turtle, he said, is that it is a constant link between your foundational past and your present stage.

He told me it is important to recognize from where you come, be grounded in where you are, and dream about what comes ahead. The world will continue spinning all around, society will continue moving, and you will continue with it. But don’t waste it – to waste time is a terrible thing. Enjoy it, embrace it, cherish it. Surround yourself with those for whom you care deeply, do those things which bring you great joy, discover that which provides your soul its nourishment, place yourself in those places where there is work to be done, and in all those things time is not wasted.

That is, for me, the Lenten journey. For this time, we walk alongside Jesus Christ with the same intentionality as he walked, acknowledging our limitations and re-centering ourselves in response to Christ’s live-giving love. We recognize our time is limited, that how we use our time and express ourselves is a statement of our faith.

The writer of Ecclesiastes knew about the tenuous relationship with time. The words of Chapter 3 are familiar to anyone who recognizes The Byrds song: to everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven. The time that we celebrate together now – and reflect on over the next seven-and-a-half weeks – is precious, God-breathed and inspired. Cherish it. Honor it. Remember it is a gift just as wonderful as the one we celebrate at the end of this season: the gift of abundant life.

Soli deo Gloria. To God alone be glory. Amen.