How to Accelerate Time

The sun stood still.” — Joshua x. 13. “They willingly received Him into the ship; and immediately the ship was at the land whither they went.” — John vi. 21.

These two passages each record an opposite experience of the human soul — the sense of time’s dragging and the sense of time’s acceleration. There are seasons in which the sun stands still — in which the hours seem to pass slowly; and there are seasons in which the ship seems immediately to reach the destined haven. Can we put our hand on the cause of these opposite experiences? I think we can; and I also think it does not lie where it is usually supposed to lie. The common view is that time always moves fast when the mind is occupied. That is not the case; there are seasons of absorption in grief when the day drags heavily, drearily. The truth is, it is not a question of occupation but of what occupies. The slowness or quickness of time, in my opinion, depends on whether our thoughts are personal or impersonal. Take this boat on the Sea of Galilee. We have to picture the disciples toiling with the rough passage and thinking the time interminable. They have 228

parted from their Master and have no object of contemplation but their own safety and their own difficulties. Their minds are thoroughly occupied, but they are occupied with themselves. Theirs is a purely personal interest, and therefore the hours seem to linger. We cannot say that the sun stood still, for it was night; but the night stood stilL Suddenly, they see their Master walking on the waves. In an instant their anxiety is shifted from themselves to Him — so I interpret the picture. They see Him exposed, defenceless, to the blast — deprived even of the physical refuge which they themselves possessed. They pant to shield Him from immediate contact with the sea. They eagerly take Him in; they minister to Him. And as they minister time seems annihilated. A few minutes ago it had been dragging heavily; now, it flies. The second half of the voyage appears a magical transition. So short is it that it is a blank to them. It leaves no record on their memory. Between their reception of Jesus and their touching the shore they can discern no interval; they can only write in their diary, “We took Him into the ship, and immediately the ship was at the land whither we went.” Lord-, the sea of life is stormy and we are toiling in the night. Shall our toil make the night seem long? It depends on whom we are working for — 229 for ourselves or for Thee. It is not interest thrt retards the hours; it is self-interest. Send us an impersonal joy or an impersonal fear; either will make wings for time. What we need to give pinions to the hour is interest in Thy Christ — in the averting of His sorrows, in the securing of His rest. He is out on the stormy sea, walking alone. He is out on the stormy sea in that life of sympathy which makes Him one with the lowliest. He is out on the stormy sea wherever the poor are struggling for bread or the homeless crying for shelter or the ragged shivering with cold. He is embodied in those who are in open contact with the waves, who have no plank between their feet and the waters; He feels their feebleness, He is touched by their trembHng. Help us to find Him, O Lord; urge us to take Him in! Bend our will to the oar with the chance of overtaking Him, of lending Him succour, of putting something between Him and the sea! Then the hours will fly. Every moment will be precious — passing too soon. The time will seem too short for the work we have to do. Life will drag no more. The sun will not stand still by day, nor the moon by night. Weariness will vanish, languor will cease, monotony will disappear; and when we turn to contemplate the voyage we shall find ourselves already at the land. 230