The Power of Time

Let’s talk time. Not the app on your phone. The thing that keeps marching when you’re laughing, crying, grinding, vacationing… and yes, even when you’re doom-scrolling.

Ecclesiastes can feel like a bummer on first read. “In the few days of our meaningless lives…” (Ecc. 6:12). Yikes. Shut the book, right? But hang on. Solomon’s doing something on purpose. He lets us feel the ache under the sun so we’ll start craving what’s beyond it. Perspective changes everything.

Time is real… and not yours to control.

Solomon opens with this: “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven” (Ecc. 3:1, NLT). Birth. Death. Planting. Harvest. Tears and dancing. There’s a slot on the line for all of it. Which is both grounding and… a little terrifying for control freaks (hi, it me).

James says it straight: “Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone” (James 4:14, NLT). Translation: you don’t hold the clock. God does.

Why your soul feels like a board game about to explode…

Remember the game Perfection? You slam shapes into tiny holes while the timer ticks, and if you don’t finish—boom—the whole tray jumps and your work goes everywhere. That’s how a lot of us live. Jam as much as possible into tiny slots before the buzzer. Career here. Relationships there. Experiences, status, upgrades. Tick tick tick.

No wonder we’re anxious.

And when the clock owns you, gratitude gets strangled. Solomon had it all and still called it a “burden” (see Ecc. 3:9–10). That’s wild. But I’ve felt it too: you finally get the thing… and immediately feel the itch for the next thing. The clock whispers, “Hurry, there’s not enough.”

The Scarcity Trap (aka Hungry Hungry Hippos spirituality)

“All people spend their lives scratching for food, but they never seem to have enough” (Ecc. 6:7, NLT). That’s Hungry Hungry Hippos. Heads down, plastic mouths chomping marbles. Limited time. Limited marbles. Grab more than the person next to you. Win.

When time feels scarce, we get FOMO-d into dumb decisions.

• “This deal ends today.” (It won’t. It’ll be back next weekend with a new name.)
• “This is the last house / last shot / last person.” (Breathe.)
• Awkward silence? Can’t have that—fill it with noise.

Scarcity turns us inward. Compassion shrinks. In Solomon’s words, it breeds corruption and oppression (Ecc. 3:16–17; 4:1; 5:8). Because if life is only marbles and minutes, I don’t have time to care about yours.

Gratitude breaks the clock’s chokehold.

“Don’t love money; be satisfied with what you have. For God has said, ‘I will never fail you. I will never abandon you’” (Heb. 13:5, NLT). Gratitude isn’t pretending you have everything; it’s remembering you have Him. And when Jesus is the non-negotiable in your inventory, everything else moves down the list. Way down.

Gratitude says: I still plan, still hustle, still steward—but I refuse to live like an orphan with a stopwatch.

You’re going to race, so pick the right race!

Clocks make us move. That’s not automatically bad. Paul: “Run to win” (1 Cor. 9:24, NLT). “I press on… to receive the heavenly prize” (Phil. 3:14, NLT). The issue isn’t speed; it’s direction.

Question: are you running like the finish line is the end of everything? Or like the tape is just the doorway to the real party?

If it’s the former, cynicism (nihilism) isn’t far behind. Why be faithful if we’ll all be forgotten? (Ecc. 4:16; 5:16). But if there’s Someone at the finish, suddenly faithfulness matters more than marbles. Integrity matters. People matter. Obedience matters.

Eternity isn’t “more time.” It’s beyond time.

Most of us picture eternity as our timeline with arrows on both ends. Longer. Bigger. Infinite minutes. But God isn’t just everywhere; He’s every-when. He chose Jesus “long before the world began” (1 Pet. 1:20, NLT). He isn’t inside the line looking out; He’s outside the line holding it. Which means when this race ends, you’re not getting more clock—you’re getting God’s presence without a clock.

That changes how you use the minutes you do have.

What now? Two simple ideas.

1. Thank God for what’s already on your plate. Name it. Out loud. Jesus first. Then the rest. Gratitude grows contentment; contentment slows the frantic reaching.
2. Stop just counting your days; make your days count in Christ. Aim your race at things that will still matter when the stopwatch disappears: loving people, telling the truth, practicing generosity, obeying Jesus when no one’s clapping, building what outlives you.

Time is powerful. But it’s not ultimate. Don’t let a plastic board game set the pace of your soul. Lift your eyes above the sun. Run light. Run grateful. Run toward Him.