The Art of Wasting Time

I counseled an overworked person today with this quote finding its way out of my mouth: "If you never waste time, then you're wasting time." Some of us are so deluded and defined by busyness that we even speak of having a productive sabbath. This is oxymoronic. It's when we intentionally "waste time" that our minds are open to God and free to notice their surroundings. Without this, there is little chance of creative problem solving. This means, also, that if we never "waste time," we waste money, energy, and opportunities. I know I need to take my own advise here. 

May God bless you with carefree moments of rest, reflection, and renewal.  

Another Post on Running

I've run every day, usually about 50 minutes or so early in the morning, for over nine years now. I haven't missed a day since May 22, 2000, even on military duty, even in Nigeria, or Ukraine, or Bermuda, or Scotland, even on 9/11 ... I love it. I don't talk about it often, because it's better than something that needs to be talked about often. I don't do it for fitness. I don't really care about fitness enough to do something about it every day. I just like to run. I don't understand people who don't. We were made to run. We were not made to sit. In fact, sitting is a recent development in history. Jesus never sat on a chair. All this talk about wanting to be like Jesus and we sit and sit. We sit in church. Hmm? Maybe this should change. This must be why my clearest thoughts about Jesus come to me as I run in the morning and not as I sit in the afternoon. I often say, "I don't run far, but I make up for it by running slow." This is true most mornings. Not this morning. I know some people can't run, but we all have something physical and spiritual like it that pushes the quality of our day from survival to living. Run the race in such a way as to win the prize.   

Extra Cheese

I was invisible as I ordered the first item on the chalk board of specials: Philly Cheese Steak. I savored both the sight of the sandwich that they started to make for me and the nothing that all the other busy people in the store felt towards me. I was careful not to puncture my invisibility by opening my mouth or making any sudden moves. It gave me a chance to look and watch. I find live people much more interesting than movies or television. Often, when I'm not called to interact with people I don't know, I'm blessed to really get a sense of who they are. One woman asked the man in the store how long he had worked there and if he knew a Sergeant Brown who used to eat here five years ago. The way she said his name opened her mail to anyone who took time to notice. I was anyone. She was with two other women. They were all restless and ordered their sandwiches deliberately. Extra cheese! My suspicion was that no amount of extra cheese would sate their hunger for something better in their lives. Outside in the parking lot I saw that they were all traveling together in an unmarked white van. What was this? 

The store's owner is a praise and worship leader at his church. Another man was fixing a light in back of his store. He got a Philly Cheese Steak too, I think, on the house. We all got extra cheese thanks to the woman asking after the Sergeant. 

I drove away wondering. Later, I prayed the silent, easy prayer that such encounters often inspire. This wasn't Eleanor Rigby. In Christ, all the lonely people can get real extra cheese on their lives. Yes, it's a dreadful metaphor, but a wonderful truth. The sandwich was good too. Ordering extra cheese is often the right decision.