Multitiming is a word that is not recognized by my spellchecker. However, I think that multitiming should be given official status. The word is built just like the word “multitasking—doing or trying to do more than one thing at the same time.”
I would provisionally define multitiming as follows: “multitiming, noun; the tendency to drag the past and/or the future into the present.”
You can see from the definition that this is a very common tendency. That is probably why multitiming is not an official word. Who needs a special word for something that is so normal, so human?
However, is dragging the past or future into the present really so normal? Or is such action just the usual human reality? Sometimes we get confused, thinking that what is usual is also normal. Worse yet, we may convince ourselves and one another that the usual is inevitable, or even good.
Now, I will admit that multitiming can be a good, healthy thing. Remembering the past and learning from it is good. So is anticipating and preparing for the future. If living in the present means ignoring the past and the future, then living in the present is pathological. Maybe I need to revise my provisional definition of multitiming in order to recognize its positive possibilities. Here goes! “multitiming, noun; the tendency to bring the past and/or the future into the present, either for good or for ill.”
However, far too often, I am not practicing healthy multitiming. I am not learning from the past or planning appropriately for the future. Instead, I am wallowing in the past and worrying about the future. I have had this tendency since I can remember. Covid-19 has accentuated this tendency (especially the worry about the future), but this virus did not create my unhealthy relationship with the past and future.
I have noticed that the people whom I know the best and respect the most are people who practice good multitiming, and avoid the bad. They are in touch with the past, but they are not anchored to it. Such healthy people anticipate and plan, but they don’t terrify themselves with dystopian videos of the future. And such people live in the present, doing what they need to do in this moment. They also generally enjoy the present moment. Healthy multitimers are living Serenity Prayers: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
What sort of multitimer will you and I choose to be today?
“We move forward, only forward. The doors behind us are closed forever.
Facing
what comes to us, with strength, is a gift from this program we share. Letting
go of the yesterdays and the last years is another gift offered by this
program. And trust that what we face along with what we let go will weave the
pattern of our rightful unfolding–that is the ultimate gift given to us by
this program.
I need never go back again. I am spared that. My destiny lies in the future.
And I can be certain it will bring me all that I desire, and more.”
(From Each Day a New Beginning: Daily Meditations for Women by Karen Casey)
“Forgetting what lies behind . . .” (Philippians 3:13, The Apostle Paul)
When a door closes behind me—whether it closes quietly, squeaks, or slams—I tend to turn around. This may be prudent when it comes to literal doors. It is definitely unwise when it comes to a door in the fabric of time.
Perhaps it would be better for me to think of closed doors as something “I am spared . . . ,” as Casey says.
I was recently watching a bit of a T.V. show (“Timeless” perhaps?) about a team of people and their attempt to thwart bad past events. I was lost. Now, I had never watched the show before, and that may have been part of the problem. Also, I came into this particular episode in the middle of things. However, I suspect that the main reason I was so lost was simply this: In the story world of “Timeless,” changing the past is a very difficult thing to do.
In truth, changing anything is tricky. Changing the past, even if it were possible, is the law of unintended consequences on steroids.
In Philippians 3:1-14, the Apostle Paul listed some of the wonderful gifts he had been given, and his accomplishments in his B.C. (“Before Christ”) days. He then precedes to say that these things are now “rubbish” to him.
And then Paul says one of the wisest, most contradictory things ever said. He says that he “forgets” what is behind (verse 13).
Now, I will admit that, at first blush, this does not seem wise. In fact, it sounds completely contradictory. How can you say that you are forgetting certain things, when you just made an itemized list of those very things?
Studying Hebrew and Greek gave me a new slant on remembering and forgetting. In both Hebrew (which Paul knew) and in Greek (in which he wrote) the words for “remembering” and “forgetting” can refer to more than our translations suggest. To “remember” can, and sometimes does, mean “to focus on someone or something.” To “forget” means “to refuse to focus on someone or something.”
So, what Paul seems to be saying is that he no longer focuses on his past. Recall, yes. Focus, no.
The doors in my past, in your past, have closed. This is not bad news. In fact, it is profoundly good news. The present has enough joys, enough sorrows, enough problems, enough opportunities. I find that, when I really believe that, I can do one of two things. Either I rejoice in this present moment, or I am able to endure this present problem or sorrow.
And, with the Apostle Paul and with Karen Casey, I can face today and tomorrow with a nice blend of quiet acceptance and eager anticipation.
Most of us are afraid of the future, to a greater or lesser extent. Some of us are so prone to fear that we even fear the past. (We don’t usually think of fearing the past, but that is only because we call our fear of the past “regret.”) And, frankly, the present can also be pretty intimidating.
That doesn’t leave a lot of time to not be afraid, does it?
There is a sense in which every day is terra incognito. A saying (attributed to various people) goes something like this: “Most things are hard to predict—especially things in the future.” That lack of knowing what will in happen in any given day is pretty intimidating.
Humankind has struggled with such fears for a very long time. It may be more intense these days, but I doubt it. Times change, but our fear of the changing times does not.
Certainly, this was a struggle throughout the ancient Near East. The Bible has a lot of “fear nots,” which suggests that there was a lot of fear coursing through the veins of ancient Israel.
The book of Deuteronomy is attributed to Moses, and is his last will and testament. He is speaking to the nation of Israel which is just about to enter the Promised Land. Moses repeatedly tells the people that he will not be going in. The land and the future are terra incognito. However, Moses assures them that God will go ahead of them, and that they don’t need to be afraid.
“Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD will personally go ahead of you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor abandon you.” (Deuteronomy 31:8, New Living Translation)
I looked at the Hebrew for this verse. It is interesting that the personal pronoun “he” is used a couple of times, even though it is not, strictly speaking, necessary. Apparently, Moses wanted to be very emphatic in pointing out that God Himself would go ahead of the people.
But this verse tells Israel that God will not only go ahead of them. God will also go with them.
It’s a wonderful picture: the God who goes before us and who goes with us. God goes before in order to lead the way, but God also keeps us company, as we go.
I have to say, in all honesty, I have a difficult time believing that most of the time. However, when I do believe it, I can face the unknown territory of the past, the present, and the future a lot more calmly.
I have signed up to receive daily TED talks in my e mail in box. My first one was a talk by Anab Jain, and was titled “Why We Need to Imagine Different Futures.”
I am not all that big on the future. I’m still trying to decide if I like the present. Don’t even get me started on the past!
However, I thought to myself, “Well, I’ve signed up for this, so I’d better listen to it.” I’m glad that I did. (If you want to see and hear the entire TED talk, go to https://www.ted.com/talks/anab_jain_why_we_need_to_imagine_different_futures, accessed 06-20-2017.)
Jain gave a number of examples of her team’s research in various fields. However, I was especially intrigued by some of her comments that are, I think, widely applicable.
For example, concerning climate change, she spoke of exploring different “possible futures.” Such exploration tries to “. . . prepare for that future by developing tools and attitudes that can help us find hope—hope that can inspire action.”
. . .
“. . . [C]reating concrete experiences can bridge the disconnect between today and tomorrow. By putting ourselves into different possible futures, by becoming open and willing to embrace the uncertainty and discomfort that such an act can bring, we have the opportunity to imagine new possibilities. . . . We can move beyond hope into action.”
Christians should be among the forward-looking people in the world. Instead, we are among the most backward-looking folks. Years ago, I remember (!?! See! I’m looking back!) someone speaking of “. . . the seven last words of the church: “We’ve never done it that way before!” Churches tend to forget the truth of a Will Rogers’ saying: “The good old days ain’t so good any more, and they probably never was.”
To imagine different futures doesn’t mean ignoring the past, nor does it mean that we don’t live in the present. Rather, imagining different futures means “. . . developing tools and attitudes that can help us find hope—hope that can inspire action.” It is only when we begin to develop tools, attitudes, and hope that our actions can really make a difference in the present and for the future.
My twelve-step sponsor made an intriguing comment a week or so ago. He often does. But this one has gotten stuck in my heart: “Be fully engaged,” he counseled me.
Sounded good, but I didn’t know the origin of the word “engage.” So I did what modern people do when they don’t know something: I googled it! Here is what I found out about the origin of the word.
“en·gage . . .
late Middle English (formerly also as ingage ): from French engager, ultimately from the base of gage1. The word originally meant ‘to pawn or pledge something,’ later ‘pledge oneself (to do something),’ hence ‘enter into a contract’ (mid 16th century), ‘involve oneself in an activity,’ ‘enter into combat’ (mid 17th century), giving rise to the notion ‘involve someone or something else.’
gage1
ɡāj/
archaic
noun
verb
So, being engaged involves putting yourself or something you value into something. Being engaged means that I am not a bystander (innocent or otherwise) in my life.
I am sitting in a hotel room at Myrtle Beach, watching the waves coming ashore. The sun is up. It is, of course, easy to be engaged at this moment. I am here with my sweetheart, enjoying a few days of vacation. It is wonderful.
Yet, even here, it is easy to disengage. After getting settled into our room last evening, my wife and I went for a walk along the beach. It wasn’t crowded, but there were some folks enjoying the late afternoon. There were kids playing in the sand, and some kids were wading in the shallows. It was wonderful.
But, of course, me being me, I thought of our trips to the beach when our own children were little. And, at that point, it was only a stone’s throw to regret for the dad I was and the dad I was not. The past is sand in the cogs of being fully engaged.
The future can also mess with being fully engaged. I worry. I worry about retirement. Will we have enough to live on, and enough to do some fun things? I worry about health—my wife’s and my own. I worry about how much longer I will be able to teach, to wait tables, to mow the grass. I worry because the strawberries may be ripening (and rotting) while we are at the beach. I worry about the fact that we only have a few days at the beach. I worry about whether the weather will be nice. I worry about . . .
Well, listing these worries is making me more worried (which is one more thing to worry about), so I’ll stop. You get the point.
If the past and the future can interfere with being fully engaged, I now know what full engagement might look like. It means being completely present.
I started this blog post at home, looking out my window on a grey April day. I was looking out the window, watching the maple seeds twirling toward their destiny. I think that I was fully engaged.
I am finishing this post at the beach, with the sun streaming through my window. I think that I am fully engaged.
Thanks, sponsor, for the very needful reminder!
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