A few nights ago I was in our girls’ upstairs bedroom helping them to get ready for bed. As they were putting their pajamas on, they spontaneously began to act out a wonderfully hilarious version of MasterChef Jr. It was amazing! They even interrupted their dialogue with a commercial break at the peak of anticipation. “And the winner is . . .” (cue fiery logo invading the screen)
It was pure joy to watch their wit and laughter.
But then came a familiar and gentle whisper from a sly robber. “Go downstairs and get your phone . . . you need to show your friends and family how wonderful this moment is.”
I am not often deceived by voices telling me to punch puppies or to spit on babies. My temptations are much more deeply rooted in the intricacies of my heart. They are subtle hints – beautiful, aromatic, chocolate-covered toxins that seek to steal my joy.
I am tempted to exchange live smiles for potential “likes.”
I am tempted to worry more about saving a moment than experiencing it.
I am tempted to ignore the people in my community and to make fanciful plans to serve people in a far-off land.
I am tempted to fret more about others’ perceptions of what I am doing than what I am actually doing.
I am tempted to respond to my phone tones faster than to “daddy . . . daddy . . . daddy!”
I am tempted to present my requests to Google before I present them to God.
Too often I am lured away from the living by spruced up plastic.
Why do I look for the living among the dead? (Luke 24:5)
I’m working on the power of the present moment. It is most certain.
It’s an oldy, but Chris Rice gets it right.
I get so distracted by my bigger schemes
Show me the importance of the simple things
Like a word, a seed, a thorn, a nail
And a cup of cold water
You know the number of my days
So come paint Your pictures on the canvas in my head
And come write Your wisdom on my heart
And teach me the power of a moment
The power of a moment, the power of, the power of, the power of a moment.