We don’t really have time.

And I don’t mean that metaphorically—I mean it literally.

We break time into units: 24 hours in a day, 365 days in a year. Over 8,700 hours annually. Time feels tangible, measurable—even visible—as the seconds tick across a clock.

It seems like something we can count, control, and rely on.

But here’s the problem: while time itself may be constant, our access to it is not.

We live as if we’re promised a full year.

This isn’t about fear—it’s about awakening.

Each day is a gift, not a guarantee.

We wake at the feet of mercy.

We breathe by grace we did not earn.

We live only because life is given.

And no, this isn’t a call to recklessness—or to chase after “YOLO” as if even that were promised.

The truth is, the only moment we are truly promised…

Is this one.

Your heart is beating—until it doesn’t.

Your legs walk—until they can’t.

Your eyes see, your ears hear—until one day, they may not.

All these systems we rely on are operating by permission, not promise. And if any of them fail, time won’t pause out of sympathy. It just keeps moving—with or without us.

So I write this as a clarion call:

To see life not just in years or even days… but in minutes and seconds.

To honor relationships as if they were fleeting.

To cherish your senses as if they might not return.

To live awake, not distracted.

This isn’t about fear.

It’s about intentionality.

And yes—intensity.

Not the kind that rushes you through life,

But the kind that wakes you up.

That grounds you in what is true.

If life had no meaning, nothing would matter—not your existence, not love, not even the asking of this question. But the very fact that we search for meaning is proof that we were created with it.

We were created on purpose, for a purpose, by a purposeful God.

And one day, we will be asked—not how much we achieved, but what we did with the time we were given.

So…

What are you doing with your seconds?

With your minutes?

Selah!