A fraction of a fraction of a second....

You may have heard of the man who asked God, "God, what's a million years to you?" And God said "A minute."

Then the man asked: "Well, what's a million dollars to you?"

And God said: "A penny" Then the man asked:

"God... can I have a penny?"

And God said: "Sure... In a minute."

Christians live in a time of already and not yet.  We say each week “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.”  God exists in a place of already and not yet.  We cannot quite comprehend how God answers prayers or the time in which they’re answered.  We cannot quite understand when our requests – for healing, for love, for friendship, for comfort, are not answered in a timely manner.  The answer may, well, it may take a minute.

We live in a hurry up world. We are always in a hurry. God is never in a hurry. We live in an instant generation, instant breakfast, microwaves, drive thru’s, email, texting and instant messaging.  My grandfather, back in the late 30’s and 40’s, used to tell my mother that cars were like time machines…that with their invention everything was going so fast.  But God lives in eternity. God does not rush. To catch up with God we often have to slow down. When I walk with my son Wesley it can be a little awkward.  His legs are about four times the length of mine.  The only way we can manage it so for us both to adjust our pace…I have to take more steps and he has to slow it down a little.  To catch up with me Wesley must slow down.  And for me to catch up with him I must stretch my stride a little.   It’s the same way when I am walking with God.  My pace is not always God’s pace, but God’s pace will always adjust to mine.

          My house is home to many hidden treasures. Some of these come in the form of little scraps of paper - some of them mine and some belonging to the kids. I came across one such treasure just yesterday - a folded, crinkled piece of paper with a most fascinating quote. It is taken from a movie no one’s ever heard of (Synecdoche, New York) but the words, the words that Tyler used as a monologue for drama, the words sum up our confusion about time, space, waiting and hope. Here they are:

          “And they say there is no fate, but there is: it’s the one you create. And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it alright. And it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved.”

          Something. We’re all waiting for something. Or someone. We’re all waiting for someone. Something or someone to do what? Complete us? Define us? Fix us? We live with the vague hope that surely the next big thing will come if not tomorrow, then surely by next week. And then, once it does, then our real life will begin.

          So we wait. We wait and wish and wonder when it will all be okay.

          That’s one way to go.

          Or…

          You may have noticed that in our gospel reading this morning that Thomas was not with the disciples when the risen Christ appeared to them in the locked room where they were gathered. The ten of them were locked in for fear of reprisals from the Jews. But Thomas? No, Thomas was out facing the world. And when he is told that his friend, his Rabbi, his Lord has appeared to the disciples, his first response is not to say Alleluia. No, his first response is pragmatic and real and, if truth be told, was the same as what mine would have been.

          Prove it, Thomas said. I need more than just your words, Thomas insisted. Not so crazy when you think about it. Not so crazy at all.

          For a week after the revelation of his friends, the revelation that Jesus had arisen from the tomb, Thomas lived in the not knowing but wanting to believe. For a week he was surrounded by his friends who had seen with their own eyes but he had to live with his own doubt - with his own questions - with his own uncertainties.

          I think that for many of us we live our lives just as Thomas lived during that one week. We live our lives unsure and waiting - waiting for the phone to ring, for the letter to come, for the person to notice, for the answer to become clear, for the job to change, for the thing to arrive that will…that will make everything perfect.

          May be we, even, are waiting for Christ to appear and to offer us to touch his wounds so that we might also truly believe.

          But here’s the thing. God’s time is not our time. God’s pace is not our pace. The fraction of a fraction of a second that we are here on earth should not be spent waiting. This is it. We only have one shot. And while Thomas eventually had the satisfaction of having all of his doubts allayed, all of his uncertainty made sure by the arrival of Jesus again a week after his resurrection, the reality is that we live in the week in between - the week of waiting.

          So if this is it, if this is our life, then why are we waiting? Why are we not pursuing our dreams? Why are we not sharing our faith with our neighbours? Why are we not reaching out to one another to make connection? Why are we living with vague regret and vaguer hope instead of moving forward? Why are we so paralyzed by doubt and uncertainty that we are unable to take the next step - to take the first step?

          Our pace is not God’s pace but we have been told and reassured that God’s pace will always adjust to our own. So take the next step.  Or, take the first step. It may take God a minute, but God will catch up.

          Amen.

 

 

^© Tara Livingston, 2015