There are two words in the New Testament, both of which are translated
_time_, but they mean very different things. One of them, the more
common, simply implies the succession of moments or periods; the other,
which is employed here, means rather a definite portion of time to which
some definite work or occurrence belongs. It is translated sometimes
_season_, sometimes _opportunity_. Both these renderings occur in
immediate proximity in the Epistle to the Galatians, where the Apostle
says: 'As we have therefore opportunity let us do good to all men, for
in due season we shall reap, if we faint not....' And, again, it is
employed side by side with the other word to which I have referred, in
the Acts of the Apostles, where we read, 'It is not for you to know the
times or the seasons'--the former word simply indicating the succession
of moments, the latter word indicating epochs or crises to which special
work or events belong.
And so here 'redeeming the _time_' does not merely mean making the most
of moments, but means laying hold of, and understanding the special
significance of, life as a whole, and of each succeeding instant of it
as the season for some specific duty. It is not merely 'time,' it is
'_the_ time'; not merely the empty succession of beats of the pendulum,
but these moralised, as it were, heightened, and having significance,
because each is apprehended as having a special mission, and affording
an opportunity for a special work.
Now, there are two aspects of that general thought, on each of which I
would touch. The Apostle here uses the singular number, and speaks not
of the times, but of 'the time'; as if the whole of life were an
opportunity, a season for some one clear duty which manifestly belongs
to it, and is meant to be done in it.
What is that? There are a great many ways of answering that question,
but even more important perhaps than the way of answering is the mood of
mind which asks it. If we could only get into this, as our habitual
temper and disposition, asking ourselves what life is for, then we
should have conquered nine-tenths of our temptations, and all but
secured that we shall aim at the purpose which thus clearly and
constantly shines before us. Oh! if I could get some of my friends here
this morning, who have never really looked this solemn question in the
face, to rise above the mere accidents of their daily occupations, and
to take their orders, not from circumstances, or from the people whom
they admire and imitate, but at first hand from considering what they
really are here for, and why their days in their whole sweep are given
them, I should not have spoken in vain. The sensualist answers the
question in one way, the busy Manchester man in another, the careful,
burdened mother in another, the student in another, the moralist in
another. But all that is good in each answer is included in the wider
one, that the end of life, the purpose for which 'the season' is granted
us, is that 'we should glorify God and enjoy Him for ever.'
I do not care whether you say that the end for which we live is the
salvation of our souls, or whether you put it in other words, and say
that it is the cultivation and perfecting of a Christ-like and
God-pleasing character, or whether you admit still another aspect, and
say that it is the intention of time to prepare us for that which lies
beyond time. Time is the lackey of eternity, and the chamberlain that
opens the gates of the Kingdom of God. All these various answers are at
bottom one. Life is ours mainly in order that, by faith in Jesus Christ,
we should struggle, and do, and by struggles, by sorrows, and by all
that befalls us, should grow liker Him, and so fitter for the calm joys
of that place where the throb of the pendulum has ceased, and the hours
are stable and eternal. We live here in order to get ready for living
yonder. And we get ready for living yonder, when here we understand that
every moment of life is granted us for the one purpose, which can be
pursued through all life--viz. the becoming liker our dear Lord, and the
drinking in to our own hearts more of His Spirit, and moulding our
characters more in conformity with His image. That is what my life and
yours are given us for. If we succeed in that, we succeed all round. If
we fail in that, whatever else we succeed in, we have failed altogether.
But then, remember, still further, the other aspect in which we can look
at this thought. That ultimate, all-embracing end is reached through a
multitude of nearer and intermediate ones. Whilst life, as a whole, is
the season for learning to know and for possessing God, life is broken
up into smaller portions and periods, each of which has some special
duty appropriate to it and a 'lesson for the day.'
Now many of us, who entirely agree, theoretically, in saying that all
life is granted for this highest purpose, go wrong here and fail to
discern the significance of single moments. To-day is always
commonplace; it is yesterday that is beautiful, and to-morrow that is
full of possibilities, to the vulgar mind. But to-day is common and low.
There are mountains ahead and mountains behind, purple with distance and
radiant with sunshine, and the sky bends over them and seems to touch
their crests. But here, on the spot where we stand, life seems flat and
mean, and far away from the heavens. We admit the meaning of life taken
altogether, but it is very hard to break up that recognition into
fragments, and to feel the worth of these fleeting moments which, just
because they are here, seem to be of small account. So we forget that
life is only the aggregate of small present instants, and that the hour
is sixty times sixty insignificant seconds, and the day twenty-four
brief hours, and the year 365 commonplace days, and the life threescore
years and ten. Brethren, carry your theoretical recognition of the
greatness and solemnity of the purposes for which life has been given
here into each of the moments of the passing day, and you will find that
there is nothing so elastic as time; and that you can crowd into a day
as much as a languid thousand years do sometimes hold, of sacrifice and
service, of holy joys, and of likeness to Jesus Christ. He who has
learned that all the moments are heavy with significance, and pregnant
with immortal issues, he, too, in some measure may share in the
prerogative of the timeless God, and to Him 'one day may be as a
thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.' It is not the beat of
the pendulum or the tick of the clock that measure time, but it is the
deeds which we crowd into it, and the feelings and thoughts which it
ministers to us. This passing life draws all its importance from the
boundless eternal issues to which it leads. Every little puddle on the
paving-stones this morning, a quarter of an inch broad and a film deep,
will be mirroring bright sunshine, and blue with the reflected heaven.
And so we may make the little drop of our lives radiant with the image
of God, and bright with the certainties of immortality.