|If you had to live without a clock, would your God still be with you?I finally got fed up with seeing it.I couldn’t have written it more than six weeks ago. But as the fiscal year has come and gone, and with it my clear allegiance to any lessor gods or men, the otherwise blank 6×4 showed up in my piles one time too many.I unplugged every clock in my studio.Then, I wrote vigorously on the card, “Yes, for Jesus Christ is my God, and by God, I am Jonathan McAdam Fisk.”I’m nothing special. But I am, because he is.To be sure, there is a clock in the upper corner of the macbook I wrote this on. There also remains a watchful number lit upon the magical confines of my “phone.”But I reach for it to see the “time” less and less.|
I’ve not been late (yet.) I’ve often been early (to my own surprise.) But far more important, I have stopped trying to “squeeze” that extra bit in before this or that.That is, I’ve stopped believing that by worshiping the clock I can find a way to cheat it.Chronos is merciless, and being his mental slave is a treaty your great-great-grandfather’s signed long before the internet. I’m not saying burn the ships. I’m saying realize what tyrant your conscience has been serving, and then remember that he is not your Lord.Jesus Christ is.You and I live in what most people call “the modern world.” But I’ve personally rejected it. Not plumbing. Not electricity. Just the savagery. Not the machinery but the machinations. Not the “magic,” just the myth.The best part about the decision to look at your clocks less is that it is founded on a better first principle that the time-hunted modern man can possibly imagine: you are in absolutely no rush. You can start “stopping” being “on time” like a drug, and start living “in good time” like God intended, any time you like. The last thing you need is to worry about it more, or to start making an elaborate plan for unplugging your clock.No no no.Just dream about it.And then remember that dreams are wasted prayers, and Jesus heard you anyway. So maybe now say it again on purpose.For repentance is a dish best served cold.
Till angel cry and trumpet sound,