A Perspective on Being Busy

In this prefabricated, prepackaged period, much of what we use comes through machinery and assembly lines, and is so well organized and operated that we are hardly aware of the effort of anyone. Yet, for time with all that is done for us by others, we seem to feel more crowded and hard-pressed for time than did people in the past.

To put the picture in perspective, think a moment of the pioneer mother, father, family, taking firsthand from nature the bare necessities of life. Think of being in the wilderness, nursing and caring for loved ones through injuries, illness, accidents, without professional help or facilities or much in the way of medicine. Think of breaking ground, of growing and grinding grain, of gathering food and storing it; of cutting logs, of building protection against the elements, insects, animals⎯of living starkly next to nature without all the processing, and packaging, and without the professional and personal services we have come to count on.

How did those who lived on far frontiers find time to do what they did⎯to fish, to hunt, to feed, and defend⎯to make a meal, or a shirt, or a shelter out of the simplest essentials?

The answer, of course, is work and faith⎯a great degree of self-reliance and a great dependence upon Divine Providence. But out of this there comes a question: what do we do⎯we who sometimes think ourselves busier than anyone has ever been before⎯what do we do with the time our forebears used to take in providing these absolute essentials? Our busy busy-ness is a paradox, and we need to look at what we do with our lives, our time⎯what keeps us forever on the run.

“Nothing is more unworthy of a wise man,” said Plato, “. . . than to have allowed more time for trifling and useless things than they deserve.”¹

Time is limited, and the things to be done with it are limitless, and we are accountable for what we do with ourselves, our time and talents, our efforts and opportunities⎯with the hours and days that God has given us. “Spend your time,” said Richard Baxter, In nothing which you know must be repented of; in nothing on which you might not pray for the blessing of God; in nothing which you could not review with a quiet conscience on your dying bed; in nothing which you might not safely and properly be found doing if death should surprise you in the act.”²