By Fr. Glenn Jones:
One of the topics that arises frequently when speaking to families with young children is the parents’ desire for the kids to reach their potential, whatever potential that might be. And, speaking with older folks, very often while reminiscing about their lives, they’ll say: “I wish I would have done this or that like I had planned.” And yet, in this latter case, as we well know, life often gets in the way. Bills, illnesses, unforeseen events can overturn the best laid plans in a moment.
We “oldies” often look at the young with envy, realizing the open horizon that awaits them … the thrill of discovering and achieving. Especially in our day and age, there are so many choices of careers. One needs in some measure, financial means to pursue them, yes, but most of all the young have that most precious resource: time.
In the relentless march of the days and months, years and decades, we are reminded that our time in life is the truly non-renewable resource. We can earn back lost wealth or rebuild fallen structures, but even a single wasted hour is a portion of existence surrendered forever. Yet, in 2026 and certainly beyond, as the digital age fragments attention and accelerates the pace of life, making the most of our time becomes not only a productivity tip, but a spiritual, moral and philosophical imperative.
The Scriptural foundation for time management begins with the recognition that time is not our own; it is a gift on loan from the Creator. St. Paul provides an anchor for this: “Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:15-16). The ancient Greeks viewed time as a currency to redeem, to save it from the mundane and trivial, and to consecrate it for higher purposes. St. John Chrysostom similarly argued that time is not our own; it is a loan from God. He noted that if a man were to borrow money, he would be careful how he spent it; how much more careful should we be with time, which, once spent, can never be recovered?
We read in Psalm 90:12: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom,” highlighting the relationship between mortality and morality. Recognizing how our days are numbered helps us prioritize the eternal over the temporal. In a Biblical view, we are not just marking time; we are preparing for eternity. St. Augustine of Hippo, in his Confessions, wrestled with the nature of time, concluding that time exists so that the creature can move toward the Creator. Every moment is a seed sown (or not) into the field of our legacy and our standing before God.
The urgency of time has been a central theme since ancient times. Philosophers recognized the human tendency to squander life: to waste time. In his treatise On the Brevity of Life, Seneca argues that life is not short, but that we make it so by wasting time. The Stoic practice of Memento Mori (“Remember that you must die”) states that by keeping the inevitability of death in mind’s eye, we are prompted to live with “the view from above” … to strip away the trivialities of social status, minor grievances, and the pursuit of luxury, pursuing actions that contribute to virtue and the common good.
St. Paul’s warning above that “the days are evil” takes on a technological dimension in our day. Global businesses are dedicated to mining our time for data and advertising revenue. Our days now tend to be a series of interruptions: notifications, endless scrolls, the “tyranny of the urgent”. Some become virtual zombies watching their phones for the next alert or communication. But when we allow our time to be dictated by the digital world, we are effectively surrendering stewardship of time. We are giving our most precious resource to that which cannot save or satisfy. If we do not choose how to spend our time, the world will happily (and profitably!) choose for us.
Yet both Scripture and philosophy suggest we will be held to account for our use, or misuse, of time. Jesus’ Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25) illustrates that God expects a return on the gifts He provides—including the resource of time. Philosophically, and as we often witness in those near death, a life well-lived is the one defense against the dread of a wasted existence … of wasted time.
Our capacity to love, to serve, and to create is bound by life’s hourglass. We can only do good in the here and now. Postponing acts of kindness or good works is often equivalent to never doing it at all, as the window of opportunity frequently closes as quickly as it opens. Good intentions alone never produce anything.
However, neither does making the most of time mean living in a state of constant and frantic busyness. Even Jesus told the apostles to “come away and rest awhile”. In fact, true stewardship often requires us to slow down, to say “no” to the trivial, and to embrace silence, prayer and contemplation. To prioritize the eternal. In the framework of eternity, many of our daily anxieties become insignificant. A wise steward filters time through the lens of what will matter in their deathbed reflection.
How we spend our minutes is how we spend our lives. As we navigate today’s complexities, we must resist the drift toward ever-available distraction. Instead, we must be the wise steward who recognizes that every sunrise is a fresh gift of grace. By redeeming our time, we move beyond the mere passage of seconds into the realm of meaningful existence. We live not just for the moment, but for the legacy we leave and the eternity that awaits. In the wisdom of the ages, the best use of time is to give it back to God: in service, in love, and in pursuit of the Good, so that when the Master of the House returns, He finds us awake, watchful, and laboring in His vineyard.
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“Conduct yourselves wisely … making the most of the time.” (Colossians 4:5)
Editor’s note: Rev. Glenn Jones is the Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe and former pastor of Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Los Alamos.