As soon as we open our eyes in this life, time has already overtaken us.
It wakes us up without permission, drags us without pause, educates us with blows, and dismisses us without farewell.
No one chooses it. No one can stop it. No one ever sees the same time twice.
And yet, we treat it as if it were ours. As if it were a resource, a calendar, a number to be accumulated or managed, but not a mystery to be received.
And so, by dint of measuring it, dividing it, chasing it, we have forgotten that time does not belong to us.
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There are those who believe that time is the neutral framework of life. Others imagine it as an invisible god who rules all things without a face.
But the truth is much simpler, and more solemn: time is a creature.
As real as the sun, as fragile as the soul, as obedient as a servant awaiting orders from the Eternal.
It did not arise out of necessity. It is not self-sufficient. It has no end in itself.
It was created by God, not for man to dwell on, but to transform it into eternity.
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The human soul was made for eternity, but it can only choose within time.
And that is why time is not an empty succession, but the space of drama.
The drama of freedom, of sin, of grace, of forgiveness, of glory or perdition.
Every second is a battlefield.
Every moment can be an altar or an abyss.
Every day can incline the soul toward Heaven or toward judgment.
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But here is the secret that cannot be taught in academies: time is not understood with concepts, but with worship.
It is not mastered with clocks, but with knees.
It is not won by doing more things, but by uniting everything to God.
Therefore, he who multiplies his agenda but does not love wastes his time.
And he who appears ineffective in the eyes of the world, but unites his day to the Cross, is saving hours for eternity.
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The eternal Word, by becoming incarnate, entered into time.
God, who does not need minutes, agreed to live each one, so that not one of our minutes would be left out of his Redemption.
And thus, time was sanctified.
Not because its substance changed, but because it was assumed by the Word and transfigured among men.
From then on, every moment can be united to the Mystery,
every hour can be grace,
every day can be an oblation...
if it is lived in Christ.
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Time does not wait.
But it does obey.
It obeys the One who created it.
And therefore, he who unites himself to the will of God does not fear the passing of days. Because he knows that each day doesn't distance him from fulfillment, but brings him closer.
There is a higher freedom than that of one who controls his agenda: that of one who allows himself to be possessed by God's plan in time.
That freedom knows how to lose in order to win, to remain silent in order to conquer, to wait in order to burn.
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The soul that loves God doesn't waste time.
Not because it fears it, but because it sees it as a gift.
A fleeting, fragile, precious gift, whose value is measured not by its duration, but by its destiny.
The saints, who understood time more than all the watchmakers in the world, lived each day as if it were the first... and the last.
They knew that every moment could be the hour of their death or their eternity.
And so, they didn't rush: they worshipped.
They didn't plan for ten years: they prepared for ten centuries of glory.
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Time is not a tyrant. The tyrant is the man who wants it without God.
Time does not kill: it is we who kill it when we use it without love.
Time does not age: it is the soul that withers if it does not await eternity.
Time, lived in grace, rejuvenates hope.
Time, united with sacrifice, transfigures history.
And time, offered with faith, conquers death.
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Time is not ours.
It was given to us… to give back.
And in that act—free, humble, silent—everything is at stake.
We will not be asked how much we did, but how much we offered.
Not how many hours our work lasted, but how much of God each one contained.
Because time will not be judged by its progress, but by its worship.
And only those who love the eternal Word discover that time is not a prison… but a path.
And that every minute is a possibility of eternity.
OMO
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