Ten Minutes

Amy Clemens

Read: Psalm 39

Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing before you. (v. 5)

Not all minutes are created equal. Holding a baby, ten minutes’ time seems to fly. But ten minutes inside the MRI tube, listening to its click and gong and staccato punch, can feel like an eternity. Each bang seems to put another nail in the coffin of earthly dreams, reminding me that life is like a vapor. When the mist clears, I see more of what’s been there all along. Entropy, decay, death . . . eternity.

Without the end of the story, I might well be depressed. But whether the minutes move slowly or quickly, I am not in control of time. The psalmist of old tells us that our days are numbered, but a host of voices in Scripture join the chorus telling us not to be afraid. If the Master—the numberer of days and giver of breaths—wills, I will accomplish what needs to be done (James 4:15). And he will accomplish what he has promised (Isa. 55:11).

Part of God’s promise is the empty tomb—life will go on when the vapor is chased away. Christ-followers will see more clearly and lean more deeply on the unseen than we do now. Even now, in our land of minutes, we are an Easter people marking invisible time with invisible breaths, and our invisible God has a plan for eternity. —Amy Clemens

Prayer: God of each breath, of resurrection and eternity, help me trust you with every minute and every breath you give me, not hoarding, not wasting, just trusting, just leaning.