Moments of Friendship

Mitchell, Brody, Shannon, and Shelby

Think about how much we are preoccupied we are with having.  I know that sounds like a cat poster but it's true - Morgan Freeman said it in Lucy.  Mitchell, I know you saw it.  It was pretty dumb but fun.

And actually, we briefly talked about that, among other things.  It was a good time, and I was glad to have that opportunity.

It was also in the past.

Brody, you and I would hang out.  That was in the past, as well.

Shannon, Shelby, same for you guys.

I don't live in the past.  The past is dead, and lives only through its effects in the present.  The present is the only thing that's alive, that's real.

Except I never quite appreciate the time I have with friends, even when it's in the present, because the present is infinitely short.  It's passing away, always to be replaced with the future.  It's an illusion, and one I'm always escaping.

Right before I got off work today, someone was complaining about his schedule.  He said that he had to work with someone he hated, except for only three hours per day.  Three hours is a lot, though.  Or hardly any time at all, depending on how you look at it.  I imagined what it would be like to be married, and only to be able to spend three hours per day my spouse.  That's disappointingly little time.  It hardly allows you to get intimate.  But then, that's a dozen times longer than any prolonged moment I have to really enjoy quality time with my friends.  Three hours a day, especially if it's consistent, is a lot.

Yet it depends.

The moral of the story isn't that it's all relative.  It's that at the end of the day, it's dust in the wind.  It's all vanity, all meaningless.

Because every good moment in your life is doomed to pass away.  It may not have passed away yet, but it will in the future.  The future is bigger than you.  It is bigger than any of your friends.

A year ago, I spent every moment I could with my friend Justin Gloudemans.  Often enough, I would spend time with Cait Vaags as well, another senior with a year left in her Dordt career.  It was a very good time in my life, and I'm glad that I had it.  Yet, I remember already missing them.  The future was more real to me than the present, and I constantly pursued what I couldn't have.  Even then, even when my worries for the future already tainted my ability to enjoy the present (now my past), I'm still glad that it all happened.

We grow up, get married, and work, work, work, work, sleep, work, work, work, work, sleep, and work some more.  Incidentally, someone's there in the bed with us, but we don't have time to socialize or have quality time.  Then, one day, you've worked enough.  You're established, and you can spend some time with your kids.  Good.  Then they grow up, and they're working and working, and nobody's schedule ever meets up, even when they themselves become fairly established.

Then, one day, maybe on Christmas, everything comes to place.  There's that one moment.  Everyone's together.  You have each other.

And it's gone.

Secretly, some people were quite sad that the moment couldn't last.  They were looking forward to the moment, but once they had that moment, they were always aware in the back of their head of how it wouldn't last.

We are future oriented beings.  Why do you think that we have to be told to not worry about tomorrow or what it shall bring?  Why is such wisdom important?

More importantly, how is such wisdom possible?

Do you want to know why we're future oriented beings?  It's because God created us for eternity.  He created us so that our identity in the present is rooted in the faith we have for our future.  So He tells us the Kingdom is coming, and the Kingdom is now because we have hope for it.

Some of you may know that the most meaningful friendship I ever had, the Great Moment, only lasted for two months.  Part of the reason why it was so great was because I always thought that it would be there, that I had security in it.  That sounds beautiful, but don't fool yourselves - it's what we commonly call taking something for granted.

It's an even better memory because I can still hope for it.  "How can you hope for something that's already happened?" you might ask.

Simple.  I'll just tell you that I eagerly anticipate the continuation of every good moment I ever had in this life into Heaven.  And more.

One day we will all die.  That does not comfort me.  Even if it's only temporary, the death in and of itself doesn't comfort me.  Still, one day we will all live.  We will live fully.  To some extent, we all live fully now, because our identity in the present is rooted in the future.

There's some troubled times ahead, but always hope for the future.  Whatever good moment you're already missing, know that it has been secured for all eternity.  Then you can truly, truly say "It is good."

Sincerely,
John Hooyer