There’s a quiet kind of wisdom tucked inside an old Cat Stevens lyric—
“Take your time, think a lot. Think of everything you’ve got.
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.”
There’s truth here that echoes a far older voice.
Scripture reminds us that the rush of life, the urgency of our desires, the pressure to make something happen now can blind us to what God is actually doing. We live in an age of acceleration—fast decisions, fast emotions, fast reactions. But the Kingdom rarely moves at the pace of our impulses.
James writes, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (James 1:19). In other words, slow down. Pay attention. Let God set the rhythm.
The lyric captures the universal tension between youth’s fire and wisdom’s restraint. Most of us can look back and say, “I was once like you are now.” We know how hard it is to be calm when something stirs inside you—an idea, a calling, a frustration, a wound, a dream. That inner pressure can make us reactive instead of reflective.
But the counsel is simple and profoundly biblical:
Take your time. Think a lot. Think of everything you’ve got.
Not everything that feels urgent is eternal.
Not every dream that burns in us is meant for this season.
And not every door that stirs our desire is one God is opening.
Jesus said, “Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you” (Matthew 6:33). The Kingdom invites us into a slower, wiser posture—one where God’s timing, not our anxiety, governs our steps. It’s the recognition that we will still be here tomorrow, but the dreams we cling to today may not survive the refining that tomorrow brings.
Some dreams are God-given and need patience.
Some are self-made and need surrender.
Some are beautiful but not eternal—and they fade so that something truer can take their place.
So today, pause.
Breathe.
Consider the goodness already woven into your life.
Remember who holds your future.
Your dreams may shift, change, or even fall away—but you remain held by a God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And in His hands, even surrendered dreams become seeds for something better.
Slow down. Seek Him first.
Tomorrow belongs to God—and so do you.
And that’s the mid-week memo.
