Work forces man to use measurements. He works eight hours a day, and for this work a certain average result is expected from him. The number of a certain kind of item a worker is able to make in a day, week, or year is fixed. Also fixed is the amount he needs to support himself and his family (if a loaf of bread or a dozen eggs cost such and such…) and the amount he needs for pleasure (the cost of a ticket to the movies or to a soccer match). His entire existence is saturated with numbers, and each presents a certain measure. When something in the mechanism breaks down, he stands there helpless. For the most part, it has an unpleasant effect. When as a worker he imagines the work schedule of his superior, he sees that he has more holidays, a higher salary, and therefore different pleasures. The superior, however, does not organize his time with any less precision, since he probably also has more work to do and greater responsibility.
If a man gets completely accustomed to the idea that everything can be measured, then he loses any sense of eternity. His horizon does not reach farther than the measurable, passing time, and mortal existence. Everything he measures constantly brings him to limits: there lies the point where what he has planned comes to an end; beyond it begins something else to measure. The life of an individual passes away between such ends and new beginnings. He gets on top of what he has measured; it has been incorporated within the compass of his life. He is ruled by the law of numbers, and he in turn rules over it. The measurements are handed over to him already complete, and yet he preserves a small amount of freedom in relation to them. He can compare things (for example, the price of milk); he can also save; he can give up things that he would have a right to in order to enjoy others. He accustoms himself to this freedom in the midst of measurements as though behind bars.
This also influences his thinking. He thinks within fixed categories that have become so natural to him that he hardly ever questions them. On the contrary, he simplifies them more and more.
However, if he meets someone who lives from faith, he encounters in him God himself. Something adventurous breaks into his limited existence. He does not know whether he is thereby weighed and measured. One thing, however, is ceritain: his measurements do not suffice to determine these dimensions. His conventional categories, time schedules, and simplifications cannot cope with the phenomenon. He had arranged a plan for himself that would allow him to advance in his job in order to be able to afford certain things when he reached the age of fifty or sixty. If the Christian truth is valid, God could frustrate all his plans; he could perhaps even require him to give up his position. In any event, God could demand from him his advance calculations and small arrangements, with now appear to him as countless reservations against God. Who could place conditions on God? This belongs to the most difficult aspects of faith: to let go of the narrow boundaries and divisions we have worked hard to put in place. We must give them up when we encounter the limitless and unmeasurable. Even time can no longer be measured by years and months, but only in terms of the entirety of a life – and the length of a life is unknown. Everything that was measured according to one’s own advantage must now be held in contempt. God offers no measures that man could get used to or for which he could use his own system of calculation. The prescribed time for prayer, the commandments of the Church, and the demands of loving one’s neighbor strike him as hard, and he does not know how to cope with it. On the surface, the circumstances remain the same: time remains time. Interiorly, however, everything has completely changed: time is now something in which eternity wants to find a place; and measure is now something in which the unmeasurable must be sheltered. Thus everything becomes quite uncomfortable…
…The hardest thing required of the believer is to place himself at the disposal of something incomprehensible, something that begins to make sense only through love. Until now he was collecting, gathering, counting, and disposing; now he is meant to open himself in such a way that the hands he holds out to collect have to remain apart. He is embraced by God in such a way that he is no longer capable of embracing anything. He must keep himself as vessel, and he cannot guarantee what this vessel will contain. He no longer knows it because he must allow what he had once well protected and thought through many times over simply to flow into the infinite, according to a rhythm that God alone determines.
(Adienne von Speyr, Man Before God)