This week in church the minister spoke about time. Many of us have experienced tug and slack as we are engaged.... or not engaged... with what is happening. We may want an episode of our current binge show to last longer. So we watch another. Or we may long for an unproductive meeting to abruptly end, so we tune out. 

 

The speaker suggested that time in heaven reflects those wishes. If we begin to tire of a class, it is over. But on this planet the stretch and drag of our routines fits our spirits less like spandex, and more like hand me downs. Too short at the wrists and ankles, but too baggy around the waist. 

 

He invited us to enter an awkward pause. The room fell silent while we waited. Yet because he had already named it, I felt no distress. If it had occurred without an introduction, I might have worried that the mike was broken or he forgot his outline. But it was a calm respite, that I trusted would not last forever. 

 

The stop light in my small town has been cantankerous of late. People post on social media about its tardiness to change. 

 

"Five minutes! No joke!"

 

"Seven minutes, and there was no cross traffic."

 

Several admitted to running the red, or turning right and going around the block. Anything to avoid a delay. One person alerted the police to correct the timing mechanism. 

 

I wonder what would happen if someone went to a Broadway show, and did not understand about intermissions. Suddenly the action stops, and the actors leave the stage. No music, either, to soften the moratorium. Having paid good money for the seat, he or she might feel indignant. Maybe he would even leave after a nine minute bout of impatience, complaining to the usher on the way out. 

 

God invites us to wait. Which suggests that there will be what feel like logjams. As if God cannot quite get the timing right.