Living in the moment

On my way to work this morning, I observed a woman behind me, driving, smoking a cigarette, looking on her phone, and talking to her young child in the back seat - all at the same time.

 

I don't think it would be a stretch for me to say that you would agree with me when I write that there is something inherently wrong with that.

 

We live in a day and age where multi-tasking is has not only become an art form - but is much admired and respected.

 

I get that.  I multi-task, and so do  you (I just had a conversation in my office and answered two emails - while I was writing this).

 

But the point of the day is that:  God calls us to live in the moment. 

 

Jesus said it this way in the sermon on the  mount (Matthew 6:34):  "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself.  Each day has enough trouble of its own."

 

In other words:  Live in the moment.

 

Do we plan?  Yes.  Do we learn from the past?  Yes.

 

But are we called by God to drain everything we can out of every moment that we live in? 

 

Absolutely.

 

Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is not yet here, today is all we have.

 

Let me leave you with this story.

 

In his "One minute uplift," newsletter, Rick Ezell tells this story: 

 

"A university professor tells of being invited to speak at a military base in December and their meeting an unforgettable soldier named Ralph.  Ralph had been sent to meet him at the airport; and after they had introduced themselves, they headed toward the baggage claim.  As they walked down the concourse, Ralph kept disappearing - once to help an older woman whose suitcase had fallen open, once to lift two toddlers  up to where they could see Santa Claus, and again to give directions to someone who was lost.  Each time he came back with a big smile on his face.

 

"Where did you learn to do that?"  The professor asked.

 

"Do what?"  Ralph said.

 

"To be so helpful and considerate to others."

 

"Oh," Ralph said, "during the war, I guess."

 

"Then he told the professor about his tour of duty in Vietnam, about how it was his job to clear minefields, and how he watched his friends blow up before his eyes, one after another.  "I learned to live between steps," he said.

 

"I ever knew whether the next one would be my last, so I learned to get everything I could out of the  moment between when I picked up my foot and when I put it down again.  Every step I took was a whole new world, and I guess I've just been that way ever since."

 

He finished by saying this:  "A grace-filled life is living between the steps.  It understands the remarkable gift of today."

 

Just a thought for a Wednesday.