inhabiting time
the kingdom is right in front of us
Welcome to the little blue room again—it has been a while since we sat in this space and drank in quiet thoughts. I am glad to be back on this chilly day, and glad to have you here, too. A candle is lit, and a cup of tea cools on the table between us.
For most of January, I did a little experiment here called Winter Seeds. Some of you were able to join me—whether participating in the chat or just on your own (if you participated, I’d still love to hear your thoughts here). We tried to carve out margin to create, or really, just margin to be, in order that creativity might have its moment. Inspired by art, poetry, prose, and scripture, we made plans (and made works of beauty) to express truth lovingly on the canvas of our lives.
As January made its final entry in the logbook of winter, I found that making margin was hard. Dedicating fifteen minutes per day was sometimes hard itself, but harder yet was dedicating fifteen quality minutes.
We do not live all our minutes equally. Some days, I was barely present to the work in front of me—I struggled to focus and give my full mind to the moment. And some days, fifteen minutes was more fruitful than hours of making had been.
I am convinced that the way we view time is a part of this—often we are encultured to see time either as a commodity (time is money) or as a burden (especially when we are waiting for something).
In his book, How to Inhabit Time, James K. A. Smith (great initials by the way, being another K. A. Smith), invites us to view time differently. The thoughts of his work have been sitting with me for the past year since I read it (and generously coerced some friends to read it). He asks us to see time as a gift from God.
As I have thought about my life right now, in this gift of a season and in the ways I am called, I see that I don’t need more time. I need to inhabit the time I am given better. More hours in my day would not discipline my attention span or my will. I need to learn how to approach the throne of God humbly and be ready to listen before I create. Then stick to it, even through difficult days.
All the while, I must not sever that most vital conduit—prayer—so I can be continuously connected to God’s presence. For in his presence is fullness of joy, and my greatest capacity to create. Why is being with God vital to creating?
We bear his image when we create, he that first and most wondrous creator. We only can create because he has created—the raw materials and the minds that move them. So, when I see God, I see his Kingdom. And that connects me to strength, wisdom, insight, and creativity. That Kingdom is what I am called to bring to this heart-worn world with every chosen word, every brush stroke, every knot of string, every slice of paper, every free smile, every thoughtless breath.
The opportunity to see and to usher in God’s presence is available all the time. Yet, my imagination needs sanctified every moment—made ready to see the Kingdom of Heaven. It is right in front of us, friends. Will we see it? Will we do the work of making it known? Will we take the time?
If you were able to participate in Winter Seeds, I would greatly appreciate your feedback here as I walk by mirror lake and consider how to approach this next year!