At the end of the day, whether one returns to the past or travels to the future, the present does not change. So it raises the question: What is the point of that chair? But Kazu still goes on believing that, no matter what difficulties people face, they will always have the strength to overcome them. It just takes heart. And if the chair can change someone's heart, it clearly has its purpose. But with her cool expression, she will just say, "Drink the coffee before it gets cold."
Before the Coffee Gets Cold, Toshikazu Kawaguchi
If I had the chance, would I go back and fix every mistake I ever made? Or jump forward just to catch a glimpse of what’s to come—hoping to find a version of myself who’s got it all figured out? Would I be happy, wealthy? Would my dreams come true? Maybe you’ve asked the same questions, too, if you could time travel.
We all have our “what ifs” and “if onlys.” We think about moments we wish we could rewrite—words we wish we hadn’t said, choices we regret, people we hurt, and opportunities we missed. At times, we stare ahead, longing for some spoiler alert about the future, hoping it’s brighter than today. But here’s the truth: even if we could time travel, we still wouldn’t be able to change the past to alter the present. And that makes it feel… pointless, doesn’t it?
But then comes the twist: What if the point isn’t to change the past or predict the future? What if the point is to change our hearts?
The old hymn says, “We’re pilgrims on the journey of the narrow road.” And that road? It’s rarely smooth. We stumble. We fall. We try our best to live right—to be good Christians, good friends, loving daughters and sons. But no matter how hard we try, we mess up. We sin. We break things we can't always fix. No one wants to live with regrets. Yet, here we are—sometimes carrying them like invisible suitcases on our backs. Some of the things that hurt us were never our fault. Others came from our own foolishness. But grace has this mysterious way of meeting us in both.
So, maybe Kazu was right. Maybe the chair’s real magic isn’t time travel, but the space it creates for change inside us. Because when the heart changes, the way we live today begins to change too—no matter what life brings. And maybe that’s the whole point: to live now, to forgive, to be present, to grow, and to keep becoming who God is shaping us to be.
Just do the next thing. Step forward, bit by bit. Be driven by love, not fear. Be hopeful, not hopeless. Rely on God's promises, not the pressures of society. Live fully in the present while looking forward and preparing for eternity.
Though sometimes, admit it or not, we’re consumed by the life we have here—the monthly bills we need to pay, the work and duties we must fulfill, the loved ones we care for, the ministries we serve in, the goals and desires of our hearts. We want to live fulfilled and satisfied. We still want to thrive in our relationship with the Lord, our careers, and all aspects of life. We want to be seen as someone who truly walks with the Lord.
Yet, life here is far from perfect. The world is getting worse. Perhaps that’s why there’s so much suffering, disappointment, and regret—because we do have a home waiting for us. A home where there are no bills, no worries, no disappointments. A place of full restoration, with renewed minds and bodies, a life of worship with God. No distractions. No doom-scrolling on social media. No jealousy or envy lurking around the corner. No fleeting temptations or sins.
I can’t imagine living a life without suffering—a life closer to God, cleansed from every sin that tries to creep in.
Still, I’m not saying we should abandon our lives here and simply wait for eternity. Of course not. We must still work out our faith, persevere, and run the race without wavering. We can still choose careers that honor God—even if it means sweeping floors or wiping tables. We can marry, build families, have children. We can pursue the dreams He placed inside our hearts. Life doesn’t stop here, and neither does His purpose for us.
But even in all this, we must live with the end in mind. We can be fully present here while still longing for what comes next.
So, I’m here—it’s 1 a.m., sitting in this small chair inside my bedroom, writing these thoughts down. And somehow, it’s refreshing. It feels like time-traveling into a quiet space.
That’s what I feel when I write—like traveling into spaces of faith and hope. Problems seem to disappear, and burdens feel lighter. That’s why I love writing.
I find myself hoping that one day, I could walk around and write with someone by my side—my date, my love. It feels like I’m longing for that love, and I hope it’s the same kind of longing I have as I wait for Christ to return. That same excitement, that same hope—that when He comes like a groom for His bride, I will be ready to meet Him and be with Him forever.
And the pain of waiting? It won’t ache so deeply then, though now, it lingers and makes me wonder, in the quiet night, when it will all come true.
So, here I am. My coffee is cold now. But my heart is a little warmer. And that, I think, is enough for today.
