More than 2,500 years ago, a Greek philosopher named Heraclitus said “A man cannot step into the same river twice, because it is not the same river, and he is not the same man.” It was a profound observation at the time, based upon his ability to see that the water was constantly moving downstream, and the man was constantly moving towards some end point. Improvements in scientific equipment have allowed us to peer more deeply into the human body and into bodies of water, etching these philosophical musings into our standard scientific teaching. In this, physics supports biology, with the 2nd law of thermodynamics showing that the natural progression is from order to chaos. The bottom line is that the only constant in this material world is change.
So, if this is an irrefutable fact, why are we so resistant to change?
Well, for those of us who have left the glory days of our physical prime behind, one of the reasons is because that change often comes with aches, pains, and diminished physical capabilities. Our minds remember all of the things that we used to be able to do in our youth, but our bodies seem to have forgotten those energetic days. When our minds convince us to try the things that were once second-nature, the result is typically failure coupled with uncomfortable consequences. But sometimes, the things that we did when we were younger had long-term consequences that weren’t apparent until our later years, when joints suddenly become candidates for replacement. The cumulative physical changes in our bodies that accompany the ceaseless march of time can be debilitating, so we are eager to forestall them for as long as possible. The constant search for a veritable fountain of youth testifies to this.
Our memories of what is good, ideal, or best, seem to be at the heart of our resistance. Yet this nostalgia sometimes fails to see the complete picture of a particular moment in time. For me, the greatest times in my life came after my physical peak, so if I were to hold to one snapshot of time as how my life should be, it would necessarily lack something. My physical peak would lack my family and all of those great memories. My great times with family must come with the aches and pains of bad knees and shoulders. The river of time is constantly flowing, and a memory is only a snapshot, so to keep on living is to allow the river to continue to flow. If we try to dam up the river to keep the water from flowing downstream, we wind up flooding the area around us instead of preserving the moment that we wanted to hold onto.
Ecclesiastes 3 declares that “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens” including a time to live and a time to die, a time to build and a time to tear down, a time to weep and a time to laugh. We cannot stop the flow of the river, and we cannot stop the march of time. That doesn’t mean that we should shout for joy with every new ache or pain, but rather that we should not get lost in trying to stop the inevitable. Perhaps we would be better off embracing every season, while preparing for the ultimate change when we leave the physical world behind. For as the author of Ecclesiastes pointed out, there is a time to die, and that too is inevitable.
Peace and blessings – Pastor Aaron