When is there space in life to seek God, to be still, to pray?
Thoughts will keep coming by the hundreds until kingdom come. The schedule will always seem full. Pressures are unlikely to cease. The hours in the day will keep slipping by, small and fleet.
Make space.
Something new demands attention every moment. Always another fire to put out. An endless testing ground for the skills acquired in our childhood playing the whack-a-mole game. And there is always something else—waiting in the wings.
Make space.
We mean to but we don't. We hope to but we won't.
The tide rises fresh on us each day. We give up hope that it can be held at bay.
If things are always going to be this way, then we need to consider our choices:
to dishonestly assure ourselves that a more ideal time is forthcoming, or to make space today to do as we always intend—
Because if not now, then when?
