Time Change

We’ve just come through a time change weekend when we intentionally scissor away sunlight from the top of the morning, stitch it to the bottom of the evening, and tell ourselves we have lengthened the day. Of course, we do this with a wink. We all know we’re fooling ourselves. We may have collectively shifted our use of time, but there is no net gain or loss. We still and always have 24 hours to work with—1,440 minutes—even though we speak of losing or adding moments each spring and fall.

On this very day in 2020—525,600 minutes ago—it seemed not as though time skipped ahead an hour, but rather, stopped. It was on Sunday, March 15, that our College Hill congregation began the previously inconceivable suspension of Sunday worship and all other in-person gatherings until such a time that we could get a grip on the brewing public health crisis. Surely, we thought, it would only be for a few weeks. Surely, we miscalculated.

Even though we have spent a year discovering clever work-arounds in order to function, and even though life has taken on at least a sheen of normalcy in recent months, in some ways, it seems as though time is still stopped. A broken analog clock. With its hands frozen in place, it divides all of history into B.P.E. (Before the Pandemic Era) and A.V. (After Vaccination). We’re in the changeover right now, waiting for the clock to be repaired and restarted, hoping that it will operate dependably again soon, expecting that it will keep time predictably, the way it used to.

Recently I heard someone say, “I’m ready to just get on with it! We’ve already lost so much time that we’ll never get back.” It is sadly true that loss has been a strong theme in the past year, and not only loss of precious lives.  Our dear ones. Some lost companionship, not to death, but to the circumstances of separation and isolation. Some lost out on celebrating milestones in the full-blown ways that may have been imagined: birthdays and weddings and retirements and graduations and such. Some lost employment and financial security, and even tangible things because of it. Some lost opportunities, and with them dreams.

It would be appropriate today to reflect on the losses. To name them. To list them. To light a candle and sit with them. Likewise, it could be fruitful to also reflect on what may have been gained. The silver linings. The blessings. The unexpected joys and goodness.

How we value time is key. When we go looking for what was meaningful even in our days of struggle, we discover that those days weren’t lost. They were actually quite powerful in forming our attitudes going forward. If we are not thoughtful about what has transpired, the time we may have counted as lost could shape us in unhelpful ways, leaving us bitter and resentful rather than appreciative and fulfilled. Who would want to so tarnish the shiny future? Rather than think of 525,600 minutes of time being lost, perhaps we are better off thinking of them as 525,600 minutes to be redeemed.

It is a universal desire to trade in tough times for better times. In a psalm traditionally attributed to Moses (and he goes way back ), the writer asks God to balance out the time ahead. He asks God to make the math work out favorably for the people and to conjure enough good days to at least equal the number of tumultuous days they have already come through. But he also expresses a desire to learn from God and learn from experience—to let wisdom be the takeaway.

Teach us to number our days so we can have a wise heart. Come back to us, Lord!
Please, quick!
Have some compassion for your servants!
Fill us full every morning with your faithful love
so we can rejoice and celebrate our whole life long.
Make us happy for the same amount of time that you afflicted us— for the same number of years that we saw only trouble.  

Psalm 90: 12-15 (CEB)

We cannot scissor away the pandemic year we have come through and stitch it elsewhere to the fabric of our existence. We cannot erase the minutes, nor set them ahead. But we can recoup their value so we might find “strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.”*

Numbering the Days,

Pastor Chris

*This is one of my favorite lines from the hymn, ”Great Is Thy Faithfulness,” penned by Thomas O. Chisholm in 1923.

Photo by  Nanzui Palomino  from  Pexels