They say, "Time heals all wounds", though, we don't know who "they" are, nor if that were true. Perhaps we should suppose time could at least numb most stings.
Some wounds hurt more with time. As we grasp at the faint reminder, once sharp images and sweet voices in memory, we wish to see and feel and hear just once more that which time hath stole away. In this a scar may be torn, and a wound remade, a regret reborn. Perhaps time only seduces our emotions, or numbs our senses, dulling the truth, or just distorting it.
"Time the great healer." So they may say. Yet the finality of our finite, time-bound state is a constant reminder that there is little constant in time. The waves of its massive unsearchable depths flow constantly over the good and the bad, dissolving all alike, taking all without regard. Soon, we shall all rest far beneath its depths, with a new crop of memories dwelling upon the face of the deep, awaiting time's cleansing work. Our wounds still hurt, Time. Where is thine effect? What dose shall we suppose would purge these deep wounds? Perhaps time will be no cure at all.
They say, "Time is money", though, we don't know who "they" are, nor if that were true, perhaps time should make us take account of that which we have to spend. A wise man once said, "Time is life." Therefore, time could be money, but time could also be pleasure, love, taking, or giving. Time will be what you are, for where you spend you is where you spend your time.
Many look back through time from a deathbed or final hour and see all the account of that which they have purchased with their small fortune of time, and yet weep. Some few rejoice. For the most part, they all wish to have more time to spend where they think it could have been spent best. As such, we're all bound to give account of ourselves one day, for that which we have poured ourselves out to, like a drink offering of times gone by, spilled out on the ground in the name of that which we worship most and best. At what altar will you have poured yourself when all of time is done? Money? Shall it be feelings of pleasure, or follies of thrill? Where go your moments? Like pennies poured down a drain, your life runs from your hands each time the clock ticks. Where does it run?
"Lay hold on eternal life." Our Saviour said. Not so as to suggest that somehow eternity could be bought with the act of a moment. For we finite creatures of dust have nothing of value to offer Him that is timeless in exchange for eternity. Lay hold on Him, for He is eternal life. Don’t waste yourself spending yourself to build your “Tower of Babel” in an attempt to get yourself to God. Get Him, and get all. Invest in Him, for His dividends far surpass the purchase price. Love Him, because you can.
Yet within our given moments are the chances to give something back that can never go away, some things that costs us a part of us, moments. By giving our time, we give ourselves. One beloved, nearing the end of time, would always rather have partaken in the moment of a loved one rather then in their money. Sure, in some cases our money represents a great investment of our time with which we earned it. But love takes time to give.
If you seek to give yourself, and you should, it will cost you time. It will cost you some of your life. And in the end, when it's reckoning time, you shall be one of those few that rejoice in the investment of your time, for your time did that it was intended for. You gave time to those you love most, you offered time to the One who offered Himself, and in these there is no regret.
Redeeming the time, because the days are evil. – Eph 5:16
Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. – James 4:14
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. – Matt 6:21
