It’s 11 pm on a Wednesday night as I write this.
Yes, this is the post that was supposed to go live Saturday morning at 8 am.
I could use plenty of excuses for why this is late: it was Halloween, I had a busy week prepping for the weekend, my kids kept me busy.
If I’m honest, this has been the norm for the past few weeks. Somewhere along the way, I fell out of routine with writing ARMR and started a new routine without it.
I “didn’t have time to write”, but what about the hours spent this week doomscrolling on my phone? Or the extra hours I spent in bed in the morning? What about the fact that I slept in and missed church on Sunday?
I’ve written before that I feel God is calling me to steward my belongings.
It dawned on me a few days ago that He’s moved me on to the next thing: stewarding my time.
Ten Minutes for God, Two Hours of Doomscrolling
“I don’t have time.”
I remember saying this before I had kids. Looking back at No-Kids-Em, I just want to know what I did all day!
Having kids forces you to restructure and reprioritize your time. A newborn waking up every two hours and depending on you to survive tends to jumpstart that.
The thing is, we don’t need a newborn to force it. We can reprioritize at any stage of life.
I say I don’t have time to read my Bible, but it might take ten minutes. Meanwhile, I’ll sit on TikTok for hours on end.
My total screen time last week was 35 hours and 39 minutes.
More than an entire day of using my phone!
If I spent ten minutes a day reading my Bible, it’d add up to 70 minutes a week. I spent 12 of those 35 hours on social media: 720 minutes, more than ten times what reading my Bible would take.
When we say “I don’t have time,” we’re often really saying, “I chose something else and don’t want to call it a choice.”
I know exactly when I spent the most time on social media: at night.
I doomscroll to decompress after being “on” all day. I want to mindlessly scroll and do something that asks nothing of me.
Needing to decompress is real, but the phone is where the hours disappear.
Some Days It’s My Brain, Some Days It’s Me
I wrote back in August about unfinished Bible studies. Not finishing a Bible study doesn’t make you lazy. Executive dysfunction is real.
Some days, my brain just can’t start. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve stopped and started writing this same post. Sometimes, I can’t fully turn on.
I have the absolute hardest time getting out of bed in the morning. Anyone who knows me can attest to this. Alarms do nothing for me; I just turn them off in my sleep. I ended up having to get an app called Alarmy that forces me to get up and scan my deodorant before the alarm turns off.
But I’ve found a way around that too. First, I force-close the app, then put my phone on Do Not Disturb, and press the volume button. It silences it, but doesn’t stop the vibration. But I can sleep through that!
Some days, I really can’t get out of bed. My eyes just won’t stay open. Other times, I stay in bed longer than I need to, scrolling on my phone.
And yes, sometimes, I use “my brain” as cover for a choice. I tell myself I’ll get the laundry done by the end of the day. Then I say, “Well, I’m too tired and don’t want to,” and sit on the couch to doomscroll instead.
How do we know if we really can’t function or if we’re choosing not to try?
Ask yourself: Did I try and freeze up, or did I never try?
Think of the thing you can’t start: if you lowered the bar to five minutes, could you do it?
If five minutes still isn’t doable, that’s a capacity problem. If we could and didn’t, that’s a choice.
Romans 8:1 says, “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
If we’ve reached the limit of our capacity, there’s grace for us. If we made a choice, we can be honest about it without shame.
Time Stewardship Without the Hustle
As I wrote in How Stewardship Fights Entropy, everything we have has been entrusted to us by God. I’ve been working on stewarding all my belongings: money, gifts, stuff. But I had never thought about time stewardship, about applying that same thinking to the hours of my life.
In Psalm 90:12, Moses prays, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” This psalm is about human frailty and God’s eternity.
Numbering our days means remembering that life is short. What Moses asks for is wisdom.
Using our time wisely doesn’t mean we do something productive every single second of every day. We’re also allowed to rest.
But wise use of our time can look like worship when we choose it on purpose: giving God our attention first and letting rest count when it’s chosen.
Hustle culture teaches us that we have to fill our days. But I’m not telling you to do more. We need to choose and prioritize what’s really important.
God gave us every one of these hours. Yes, we can still have fun and play Xbox for too long once in a while, but how much of our time do we give back to Him on purpose?
Jesus Got Up Early, but Not to Impress Anyone
I’ve been trying for YEARS to become a morning person. I love the feeling of being awake before everyone else and feeling the entire day ahead of me.
Unfortunately, I also love sleeping. And I’m naturally a night owl, so my dreams of being a morning person still haven’t happened.
Most of the time, once I finally get out of bed, I’m overwhelmed with guilt for sleeping in “too late”. I hear, “Jesus woke early, so you should too” in my head.
Mark 1:35 tells us that Jesus woke up very early while it was still dark and went to a solitary place to pray. The evening before, the whole town had gathered at the door, and He spent it healing people and driving out demons. He had been “on” all day. Later, the disciples find Him and tell Him everyone is looking for Him.
He chose the quiet hour before the demand returned. The clock mattered less than the choice.
My version would be the quiet before the kids are up, something I want but haven’t managed yet (it doesn’t help that my daughter wakes up close to 7 am now).
For some, the quiet hour is a lunch break, a car ride, or after bedtime. Our bodies and brains differ.
Just Do the Next Ten Minutes
We don’t have to do a complete overhaul of our time. Just start small.
Something I’ve been trying (on my quest to become a morning person) is scheduling things early in the morning. I have no choice but to get up, or I’ll miss my commitment!
This week, four of my mornings start before 7 am: worship team, my part-time preschool job, and a shift at the hospital. Sometimes, outside accountability is the push you need. (If only it worked on my off days!)
What’s something you can schedule that someone else will count on? It could be a morning walk with a friend, a Bible study group, a standing coffee date.
Start with ten minutes.
Set a ten-minute timer. Whatever you choose to do, it doesn’t have to be perfect. When I write, I try to remember that a bad draft can be edited; a blank page can’t. When it rings, stop if you want. You might be surprised and want to keep going.
Since nights are when I scroll most, I’m trying ten minutes of Bible reading before I open TikTok.
Next, I’m going to try app limits or turning my phone to grayscale.
We don’t have to be like those influencers who seemingly have their lives all put together, doing something productive and innovative at all times of the day.
Five honest minutes beats a performative thirty.
Giving the Hour on Purpose
This post is out very late, and I’ve spent so much time feeling guilty about it. But it’s here, because I chose it.
I challenge you to check your Screen Time number this week. Choose one ten-minute thing you’ve been “not having time” for. And give it that time on purpose.
Rest has its place in this too: choosing sleep or rest on purpose also counts as wise use of time.
Lord, teach me to number my days. Tonight, I’m starting with ten minutes.
