Hands of Time, Arms of God

JAMES P LONG

 

Lord, you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations. Before the mountains were born or you brought forth the earth or the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.


Psalm 90:1-2

My watch measures time by the tick. It clicks off seconds, minutes, hours. The date changes in the small window on the watch face. Twenty-four hours, another day gone.


The sun marks time, too. Day and night. Season and year.


I watch the sky. Stars cartwheel through space, the gears of time in perfect sync. The moon changes its face as the months come and go.


Leaves show green, then golden. They fall, leaving naked branches behind to catch and sift the snowfall. The earth warms. Buds form and burst open. Seasons come, seasons go—birth, life, death, birth, life, death—measured by all creation.


Dreams also measure the march of time. An idea formed. A desire born. A goal established. A plan executed. A fulfillment. A disappointment. A success. A failure.


Sooner or later the hands of time strangle us, the final measure of a lifespan. But the arms of God enfold us, embrace us, hold us secure in the now that never ends.

Copyright © 2008 by James P. Long | Faith and Imagination