Our readings this week are Ephesians 5:15-20 and John 6:51-58.

When I first read through these two passages together, I was struck by a seeming contradiction. In Ephesians, the author encourages us to "make the most of the time," while in the Gospel, Jesus tells us that we will "have eternal life" and be raised up on the last day. On one hand, I felt encouraged not to waste what little time I have, and on the other, reminded that I have more than all the time in the world...

I was, of course, being lazy and not reading what Ephesians actually says: make the most of the time, not because it's running out, but because the days are evil (more on that later). Nonetheless, I'm grateful for that laziness, as it's a reminder of how often and easily we can fall into the trap of assuming limited time, rushing around with an (over)full to-do list, and berating ourselves when we don't get everything done. I remember a little card that hung around in our kitchen when I was a boy that said, "Don't hurry, don't worry, and don't forget to smell the flowers." Wonderful, if whimsical, advice that sadly often seems like impractical nonsense.

There is, of course, no escaping the need for certain tasks, nor the importance of deadlines in helping us get things done. But perhaps there is an invitation here to spend some time reassessing which of the many tasks ahead of us are most worthy of our attention, time, and effort.

Jesus tells us we will live forever. That's a really long time. It puts into perspective that oft-quoted question, "Will this still matter in 100 years' time?" And the perspective it gives is like watching that question disappear into the distance of the rearview mirror as a bit more eternity appears around the corner in front of us. What stays important from this point of view? What deeds done in life will really echo in eternity?

With my apologies to C.S. Lewis for almost certainly misrepresenting one of his arguments: if we're eternal beings, so is everyone around us. Perhaps that's a way to answer that question, because the relationships we form now will be one of the very few things we carry with us beyond death—both with those we see regularly, and those we may never meet this side of eternity, but upon whom we have had some influence or effect.

I will live forever alongside every person who ever stitched a piece of clothing I wear, or grew a piece of fruit I eat. I will live forever alongside every victim of injustice, warfare, or violence that I have met, read about, or saw on the news. I will live forever alongside every homeless person I walked past, every driver I swore at, every individual I took for granted...

It's a sobering thought. My first reaction is to remember that I will, of course, do that in the knowledge that I have been forgiven for each and every one of my failings through Christ, and to pray that I will have the grace to extend that same forgiveness to those who have wronged me, and to accept it from those I have wronged. ("Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us" comes to mind.)

My second thought is to go back to Ephesians and ponder those words: "as wise, make the most of the time, because the days are evil." Make the most of the time—surely that must now mean making sure that every moment I exist, I do so with the intention of valuing, caring for, uplifting, and loving those around me? Surely it must mean using the wisdom God has granted me to make choices that extend those gifts beyond those I see immediately around me, to those upon whom I am deeply reliant? Surely it must mean striving to live a life that brings abundance not to me, but, as far as I am able, to every child of God with whom I will one day—and forever—share my home? Surely that's making the most of it?

If I manage that, and if others do the same, perhaps we will find that the eternity we look forward to has already begun, that the evil around us in these days has receded and been overcome, and that, to quote that prayer again, "the kingdom has come on earth as it is in heaven."

It's got to be worth a try, right?