I’d Love to Live My Life…

…but I haven’t got the time.

I had a recent email exchange with a friend who was bemoaning their inability to get anything done because they’re too busy.

Think about that for a minute.

One of the more insidious diseases to infect modern man is incessant “busyness.” I think this is partly due to the very admirable trait of a strong work-ethic, common to most Americans, especially people with children. On the run from dawn to dusk, working, keeping house, caring for the kids, chauffeuring them to their various extra-curricular activities and so on, they exhibit all the symptoms of the disease in its most advanced form. However, in the rush of daily living, these things take on a life of their own, by sucking the life from us, often without our even knowing it.

If the disease is left to metastasize, pretty soon it’s much easier to go along with the established routine than to change anything. Eat meals together? Who has the time? Read a book? I’ll listen to an Audible book on the way to work. Have a meaningful conversation with your spouse or significant other? I’m way too tired for that. Besides, they know how I feel. Pray? Give me a break! God can see how busy I am! What am I supposed to do, let everything fall apart?

Uh huh. You’re right. The world was dangerously close to flying out of orbit the other day when you stopped to refill your coffee cup. Don’t let it happen again!

I believe it was John Wooden who famously said,

Don’t confuse activity with achievement.

Truer words were never spoken. As a refugee from the corporate world, I know how much time and productivity is lost due to “activity.” But it’s not found just in the realm of meetings and emails, it’s in our homes too.

Kids are so inundated with extra-curricular activities that, between them and their studies, they frequently suffer sleep deprivation. Couples work so many hours, and travel so much for their jobs, they hardly see each other. Is it a wonder that marriage in America is so threatened? When the weekend rolls around, a traditional time for rest, what do we do? Unable to sit still, we work some more, or fill all the time with recreational activities. In other words, we make Saturday and Sunday just like the rest of the week. We’re so worn out by it all that come Sunday, we can’t even drag ourselves to church for an hour.

Is this healthy?

In my own life, the pressures of deadlines, channel maintenance, marketing, events, and maintaining a household, leave precious little time to actually, you know, write. So you see, I suffer from it too. Don’t get the idea I’m just sitting out here in my pj’s and fuzzy slippers throwing stones.

I think our problem lies in two areas: fear and pride. First, we are fearful that if we’re not always doing, we’ll miss out on something. Yeah, we have to work. But do we work to maintain a lifestyle that is way more than we need, especially at the cost of our relationships? Yeah, we have household chores, but can’t we do them together? Yeah, we need recreation, but does it always have to involve going somewhere and doing something? Couldn’t we just spend time together talking, eating, playing a game, or just being together?

And why do we add things to our already over-crowded plates? Is it because we fear it won’t get done if we don’t do it? Herein lays pride. The tiny current that runs beneath the surface of our consciousness that says, “I’m indispensible,” or the equally dangerous, “I don’t need anybody’s help.”

I can’t help but think that God must watch us rushing to and fro with a tear in His eye. So busy doing all this stuff, and never a minute to say, “Thank you God. I love you.” And then one day, just like that, it’s all over. What do we have to show for our time on earth?

In the popular book, Everyday Saints, the story is told of a priest-monk at Pskov Caves Monastery who was quite the carpenter. As a young monk he went to work in the carpentry shop. He was so talented, that he soon started making and repairing all manner of furniture for the monastery. One day when the bell rang for prayer, he was in his shop as usual. But before he could stop his work, he had an attack and dropped dead. The abbot came to pray over him, pronounced that he was not dead, and would recover. Suddenly, he came to with tears in his eyes and a look of dread on his face. He begged to be admitted to the strictest form of monastic life immediately. This was unheard of, but the monk’s pleading was so pitiful that abbot relented. Many years later, he related what had happened to him when he had been dead.

He related how he found himself in a large, beautiful field. As he walked along, presently he came to a riverbed filled to overflowing with all of his creations: chairs, armoires, tables, cabinets and so forth, all piled on top of each other. As he gazed on this scene in bemusement, he became aware of a presence behind him. He turned to see the Blessed Mother looking at him with sadness in her eyes. He fell to the ground in fear. Then he heard her speak:

“We wanted your love, and instead you gave us all this,” she said waving her hand at the piles of broken furniture. Immediately he came back from the brink of death knowing what he must do. From that moment, he understood that all his “work” had done was to separate him from the love of God. Right then, he resolved to spend the rest of his life in prayer and contemplation.

We can’t all be monks, but we can stop to reevaluate what is most important in life. There is time to do all the things we need to do, if we are disciplined about it. God does not try us beyond our capacities. Busyness, on the other hand, is a prison. Make no mistake, it’s a prison of our own creation, but thankfully, it’s one with no locks on the doors. We can walk out any time we choose.