| Genesis 22:12 – “Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” |
Some words are easy to overlook.
They slip right past us—quiet, almost invisible.
Today, I want to draw your attention to one of them.
It’s a little word, small enough to ride the steam curling off your morning coffee.
That word is “now.”
We say it all the time, but when you stop to think about it, “now” is a strange thing.
When is now?
When does one “now” end and the next begin?
These aren’t just the musings of a wandering mind (although you might be tempted to disagree!).
They’re worth considering—because how we understand now shapes how we live.
Interestingly, no one knows for sure where the word “now” came from.
If you dig far enough—through the leaves of history, down the trunk of language, and into its roots—you’ll find it reaches back before the time of Christ, showing up in ancient Persian and Sanskrit.
Some scholars think “now” may even be a worn-down form of “new.”
That would make sense—because every now is, by definition, new.
Scripture gives us a striking example of a moment when now truly mattered.
In Genesis 22, Abraham climbs Mount Moriah with his son Isaac.
He believes he’s about to sacrifice his only son in obedience to God’s command. It’s a story full of tension, trust, and unanswered questions.
But then, at the very moment Abraham raises the knife—now happens.
An angel of the Lord calls out and stops him.
And God says:
“Do not lay your hand on the boy or do anything to him, for now I know that you fear God, seeing you have not withheld your son, your only son, from me.” (Genesis 22:12, ESV)
What did God mean?
Didn’t He already know Abraham’s heart?
That’s the mystery.
But in that moment—now—Abraham’s faith became more than belief. It became action. It became visible.
Things often come to light in the now.
So how long is “now,” really?
Believe it or not, psychologists have tried to measure it.
They define a “now moment” as lasting 1 to 2 seconds. That’s it.
A heartbeat.
A breath.
A blink.
But don’t let its brevity fool you.
You can do a lot in the space of now.
You can say thank you.
You can say I love you.
You can say I’m sorry.
You can reach out to someone who’s hurting.
You can laugh with someone who’s rejoicing.
You can begin again.
Don’t underestimate the power of the present.
It may be small, but it’s full of holy possibility.
So let me ask you—
What will you do with the nows of today?
–Robert G. Taylor
robertgtaylor.com
