By Robert Hurtgen

I wear a regular watch. It is black with a brown leather band and off-white stitching.

It has a large minute hand, a short, fat hour hand, and a bright orange second hand ticking away moments of the day. The watch tracks the date and has some other dials that do something, though I could not tell you what.

You can, if you are very quiet, hear the "tick, tick, tick" coming from your wrist.

I also have a smart watch. It is, though, more a better-than-average watch than a smart watch. It will tell the time, how far I ran, keep track of the laps I swim and an assortment of other activities.

With the swipe of my finger I can tell you my heart rate, my steps and quality of my sleep; however, my third cup of coffee is a better informant of the previous night's sleep.

I like my better-than-average watch, but I prefer to wear my basic watch.

Addressing the joint sessions of Congress in 1989, David McCullough tells of a clock whose mechanics were hand-forged and measured by the eyes of 80-plus-year-old Simon Willard.

Beneath that clock, important acts of Congress were voted on. Acts that few can remember, let alone know who to attribute them to.

He writes, "It is also a clock with two hands and an old-fashioned face, the kind that shows what time it is now ... what time it used to be ... and what time will become."

What tremendous commentary, expanding the call of the Psalmist to "Trust in him at all times" (Ps. 62:8). All times are now, what used to be and what we hope will come. All times are what I remember, what I've forgotten and would like to forget. All times are those that are good and hardened.

Clocks do more than measure time. They reflect time. An old-fashioned clock will allude to what was, prompt dreams at what could be and call out to those who look upon her face to seize the moment that is. The past, present and future, all of which God can be trusted in, are reflected in the face of an old-fashioned clock.