We are living in the days of the hustle and bustle; in the days of the pull.
Can’t you feel it?
The pull away from what is important and eternal. The pull towards the trivial and meaningless.
Our attention is needed here and there and everywhere. And even where it isn’t needed, per se, it is otherwise occupied relentlessly by worldly little traps desperately vying for it.
Unseemly little traps set meticulously on the treadmill of life by the distractor.
Ding. So-and-so liked your post. Respond. Buzz buzz. What are they saying in the group text? Respond. Ring Ring Ring. Hi, your bill is past due. Respond. Beep beep. This is your weekly reminder that you are running behind. Chime. Don’t forget to RSVP to the party!
RESPOND.
Social media, the sense of urgency to be hyper-responsive, the pursuit of perfection, or better yet, the lie that someone else is achieving it while you cramp and gasp for breath strides behind them. Responsibilities and timelines kaleidoscoping around you at what must be the speed of light.
Every moment feels rushed. Forced, even. Lots of square pegs and even fewer round holes.
Little hands reaching to help with dinner just to feel closer to you, but there’s no time! Hurry! Dinner must be made in a timely manner so that the mad dash to bedtime isn’t behind schedule!
Just this week my 22-month-old wanted to pour and mix the ingredients for the bread I was making for dinner. I could barely hear him over the podcast I had been rewinding for the last hour, the roar of the vent hood fan, and whatever supersonic noise was coming from the TV.
The tiny muscles popped in his arms as he stretched them towards me with all his might.
“Mommy, mommy I pour! I mix!”
My pregnant feet throbbed with the weight of the day underneath me, I just wanted to finish this podcast and get dinner over with so I could sit on the couch and enjoy my meal with a side of mindless scrolling in peace.
“No, Buddy. Mommy is just gonna do it. Go find brother and play until the food is ready.”
He threw his small, diapered frame to the floor. “I mix, Mommy. Please!”
I raised my voice as the overstimulation and the pull got the best of me.
“GET UP! Get out of this kitchen and go play.”
Just then a gentle whisper tugged at my heart. “Lauren, turn off your phone. Pick that baby up and let him help you. It doesn’t matter if it slows you down. Where do you have to be?”
If it isn’t eternal it isn’t important. The words rattled urgently around my mind.
Tears burned and welled heavily behind the dams of my eyelids. I wanted to throw my phone into the wind and never see it again. I couldn’t get to that baby boy fast enough. I crouched in front of him and squeezed him as long as he let me.
“Mommy is so sorry. Do you want to come help me finish up dinner?”
He screeched in wide-eyed agreement and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He picked up so much speed he was almost moving sideways.
With one hand he made sure I was never too far from him and with the other, he mixed and mixed until something else caught his impressively short attention span.
He was so proud of the dinner we made.
And to think, I almost missed this moment of ministry for both of us because of a podcast that I can’t take to heaven with me. I almost chose a worldly little trap over the eternal weight of a moment spent with my greatest ministry – my family.
Since then, in almost every interaction I encounter, I greet with this question: “Is it eternal?”
If the answer is “no,” my response is simple – it isn’t important.
Dear friends, I warn you as ‘temporary residents and foreigners’ to keep away from worldly desires that wage war against your very souls (1 Peter 2:10).
Don’t love this evil world or the things in it. If you love the world, you do not have the love of the Father in you. This is all there is in the world: wanting to please our sinful selves, wanting the sinful things we see, and being too proud of what we have. But none of these comes from the Father. They come from the world (1 John 2:15-16)
The world and its desires pass away, but whoever does the will of God lives forever (1 John 2:17).
