It all started with Professor Philip Zimbardo of Stanford University. I was half-heartedly listening to an excerpt from his lecture on “The Secret Powers of Time.”

“Another kind of time-orientation is,” (said Professor Zimbardo), “your sense of duration. How much time has expired while you’re sitting in a dentist’s office before they start drilling? How much time has expired when you’ve been waiting in line? How much time has expired when you’re having fun? . . . So, time duration is totally a function of whether you’re bored, whether you’re excited, or not.”

I rubbed my nose and tried to look intelligent.

Connie nudged her sharpest elbone in my side and whispered, “Did you get that?”

“No. Get what?”

“Time,” she said excitedly. “It’s relative.”

“So . . . ?”

“So, you know that stupid old slow computer that you want to upgrade but you don’t think you can?”

Now I was interested. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Do you know why it’s so slow?”

“Because it’s old?”

“No, it’s slow because you’re impatient.”

I gave her a sharp look, but she had already turned back and was listening to more of the lecture.

The longer I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. My perception of time hinges entirely on my attitude. Deep stuff, this.

Being careful not to let Connie see what I was doing, I grabbed a 3×5 index card and wrote:

“Why is your computer so slow? Because you’re impatient.”

I put this card facedown on my desk. There’s no point in letting Connie know she’s quotable. Her head’s already big enough.

The card sat on my desk for about a week. Every time I started jiggling my foot or tapping my mouse or heaving sighs at my computer, the blank white back of that card would catch my eye and I’d remember . . . the computer isn’t slow; I’m being impatient.

It did wonders for my attitude.

Last night I picked up the card from my desk to retire it to my file box. It had done its duty and I wanted a clean desk for in the morning.

I turned the card over to read Connie’s pithy sentiment one last time.

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What I saw were some cryptic notes for editing a video. During the week, while shuffling papers, I had switched the cards on my desk—and hadn’t even noticed.

It just goes to show you how powerful visual aids can be.

Or something.

We are not commanded by God in the Bible to bear fruit. Fruit is a by-product of living our lives. We are commanded to be holy, righteous, vigilant, faithful, steadfast, and so on. These things naturally result in good fruit.

“Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. …And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not” (Galatians 6:7–9

(Continuing a thought from He Is Able.)

“A Christian who lives in isolation from other believers will fail to receive the blessings as well as the maturity resulting from godly interaction” (Joel R. Beeke).

3 common traits of isolationists:

• They separate themselves from true Bible-believers.
• They are quick to defend their own beliefs with Scripture.
• They are reluctant to hear what others believe from the Bible.

“Through desire a man, having separated himself, seeketh and intermeddleth with all wisdom” (Proverbs 18:1).
ESV: “Whoever isolates himself seeks his own desire; he breaks out against all sound judgment.”

“A fool hath no delight in understanding, but that his heart may discover [express] itself” (Proverbs 18:2).
ESV: “A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion.”

“And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are…” (Matthew 6:5–8).

“All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made” (John 1:3). [Emphasis added—not that the Bible needs any emphasis added.]

Does a thing exist? Jesus made it. It did not evolve from anything else. His mind and might and matter is the only source of life.

There are variations within species through breeding and man’s corruption. But there is no viable evidence for a gradual transformation into greatness by natural selection.

God alone is great. He allows us to enter into His greatness only through the Lord Jesus Christ. Not by evolution. Not by natural selection. Not by works of righteousness. Christ alone.

My lovely chandelier has three bulbs. Same brand, same dye lot, inserted on same day, and always turned on at the same times. And they burn out at different times.

I do not understand this.

But what really grates is that each time I replace one bulb, the time between their burnouts increases—from 24 hours to a few days or weeks. That means I have to unearth a new bulb, stand on my bed, and screw in one new light bulb far more often than I think (under the circumstances) I need to.

What I want to know is this: Given enough time and chance, will they ever all three burn out at the same time?