you conspire against me
whispering lies in my ear
stirring up chaos
making my thoughts so unclear
I want to break these chains
that hold me down in defeat
I need a Savior
to come here and rescue me
I cry out to You
the only One with the power to cast away
the enemies of my own making

1 For everything there is a season,
a time for every activity under heaven.
2 A time to be born and a time to die.
A time to plant and a time to harvest.
3 A time to kill and a time to heal.
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
4 A time to cry and a time to laugh.
A time to grieve and a time to dance.
5 A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
6 A time to search and a time to quit searching.
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
7 A time to tear and a time to mend.
A time to be quiet and a time to speak.
8 A time to love and a time to hate.
A time for war and a time for peace.

- Ecclesiates 3:1-8 (NLT)

All my life I have heard the phrase, “This isn’t the time or place for that.” in reference to behavior that may not have been the most appropriate for whatever particular setting I happened to be in.  Several times when I was growing up, that phrase was directed at me. (Who’d a thunk it, right? )

When we were children, we didn’t always know what was appropriate in certain social situations.  We had to be taught.  As we matured, we gained wisdom to know when the proper time and place was for things.

Likewise, as we grow in our relationship with God, and in our relationship with the church, we learn when to plant and harvest seeds of ministry; when they should be birthed, or when they have lived a full life, and the time has come for them to be a part of the past.  We gain wisdom and understanding of when we are to tear down and rebuild, whether that be in a physical or spiritual sense.  We become wise with our tongue, and discern when it is best to be quiet, or when it is best to speak out.

I pray that I become more wise, and learn to behave in the right time and proper season.

Does time slip through my fingers
and make its way to the memory of the past
or has the time that has been placed into my feeble hands
been wasted at your expense?

I wish that I could go back
savor every second and make it last
I wish that I could soak up every precious drop of wisdom
that I allowed to fall to the floor
and study it sitting in my open palms