As I write these words I'm reminded of Harold Schweizer’s book, On Waiting. An idea that he proposes is that when we are waiting for something, time is passing us by. Or at least, that’s what we think. But time doesn’t pass us by. Actually, he says, we are the ones that are passing by.
Mortality, the sense that time happens, that we are in time, and that our time will end, is responsible for much anxiety. The writer of Ecclesiastes had the same feeling. All is vanity. It’s all meaningless, because, in the end, we’re all going to die: “A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever.” (Ecclesiastes 1:4)
And yet during our march past the constant, watching eyes of time, we are all destined, for at least one moment in our lives, with a confrontation with "The Truth". The truth of our mortality, our helplessness, and our sinful nature measured against the standard of the law of our Creator.