I’m currently reading Elizabeth Scalia’s Strange Gods: Unmasking the Idols in Everyday Life. I’m about halfway through the book, and I must say, it has already been a big gut check for me. The book is an examination of the various “gods” we hold up for idolatry today. Sometimes they’re fairly obvious (wealth, sex, social media), but other times they are subtle. When they’re more subtle, they are more dangerous. After all, “subtle” (or “cunning,” depending on the translation) is the same descriptor used for the snake in Eden.
“Now the serpent was more subtle than any other wild creature that the Lord God had made.” Genesis 3:1
Scalia shared an interesting anecdote about how her husband created a god out of Forever with a hammock he received as a gift. He was so concerned about preserving the hammock that he brought it safely inside every time it looked like it was going to rain, and he carefully rehung it after the storm cleared. By mid-July, he would be so sick of the back and forth that he would leave it inside for the rest of the warm season. Perhaps, Scalia observed, it was a reflection of how her husband thought keeping something looking like new forever would prevent him from considering his own aging process.
“Forever comes with a catch though: my husband is so busy saving the hammock that its usefulness is lost to him. It’s like he doesn’t have a hammock at all. Forever, then, is a very empty idol.”
That got me thinking. Have I made a god of Forever? Are there things that I’m holding onto that I want to preserve from the aging process? The only thing that came to mind were the two bottles of bubble bath that never get used or the china and pieces of serving wear that rarely make an appearance out of the china hutch. When I was younger, I used to save brand new scrapbooking materials or clothes only for the perfect moment. Somewhere between junior high and parenthood, I abandoned the need to save things and started using them when they were necessary or helpful.
When we became parents, some things simply stopped getting used. I don’t use the bubble bath or china or serving pieces, but it isn’t out of a desire to preserve them. Simply, I’m in a chapter of life when I’m too lazy to hand wash the china or take a bubble bath when I have limited free time. I’d rather spend the precious free moments doing the things that I’d rather be doing–like blogging!
So, if I wasn’t making a god out of Forever, why did that hammock story resonate with me so much? I asked myself, “If I wouldn’t be upset with the things in my life getting destroyed, what would be the most catastrophic thing that could happen tomorrow?’
I instantly had my answer.
The most catastrophic thing would be not having Tomorrow. I give it a capital “T” because I’ve made Tomorrow a god.
I wouldn’t say that I’m always living for Tomorrow, but I do live as though Tomorrow is owed to me.
I’ll regularly think things like:
I’m going to play with the kids more Tomorrow.
I’m going to be more affectionate toward Philip Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, I’m going to call my grandparents.
I’m going to write a letter to our pastor thanking him for his homily Tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be a great day to start running.
What are we going to do Tomorrow?
I’m going to say “I’m sorry” to my friend Tomorrow.
What’s on my to-do list for Tomorrow?
I’m going to pray the Rosary Tomorrow.
I lean so far forward onto Tomorrow that I’m realizing I’m building my life on sand. Tomorrow is not owed to me. This isn’t supposed to be yet another one of those carpé diem cliché posts. It’s great to plan ahead, prioritize, blah blah blah. But I’m realizing that I am so dependent on Tomorrow happening that I would be devastated if it didn’t come. Every single day (hour, minute, moment) is chock full of opportunities to play with the kids more, be more affectionate, call my grandparents, write our pastor, start running, say “I’m sorry,” pray the Rosary, etc.
“Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today.” – Benjamin Franklin
I don’t know if Benjamin Franklin actually said that, but it’s my reminder to stop making Tomorrow my god for today. Instead of allowing Tomorrow to be the focus of today, today needs to be my focus of today. (I know. Duh. But it was a lightbulb revelation for me.)
So, this is part of my morning prayer these days:
God, what are You asking me to do with the gift of today? What are the doors You are opening for me to go through? How are You asking me to be Christ’s Hands, Ears, Feet, Mouth to the people in my life? What needs to get done today that cannot wait until tomorrow? Please give me the wisdom to know what You want me to do and the ability to make Your Will be done. Please give me peace and wisdom when facing the things that can either wait until tomorrow or don’t need to be done at all. Make me Your good and faithful servant. Amen.
Have you made a god out of Forever? Tomorrow? How is your relationship with time looking lately?
