Dear one,
“More time with the family …” In recent years, I have given credence to this pastoral “secret”: those who are deathly sick never concede: “I wish I’d spent more time at the office”; rather, they are much more likely to sorrow: “I wish I’d spent more time with the family.” Most often, those who express this regret are we men—and of course I know, this observation is a broad, sweeping generalization, and yet it does bear some truth.
But for whomever applicable, it raises the question of priorities: What is important? For instance, if we consider the three “T’s”—time, talent, and treasure—time is the one “T” never really regained, when once spent. In many instances our talents might be revived after periods of disuse; likewise, our treasures might be recouped after their expenditure—but not so time. Who of us can actually relive September 10, 2001—twenty-four hours prior to our entrée into the world of terrorism? So too, who of us can relive those days just prior to our becoming conscious of a brave-new-world called “covid-19”?
Time.
However, because of our covid-19 world, many of us have had time to rethink how we live the gift of time. Some of that thinking has been freeing, the opportunity to reassess priorities: “Just why did I spend so much doing that rather than this?” And yet, some of that thinking has been burdensome: “What am I to do?” with the attending question: “But how can I do that, when my life is now constricted by sharing space with those whose priorities are not mine?”
Time.
Over the years I have been repeatedly arrested by Jesus’ understanding and living of time. Although we greatly appreciate if not venerate what He taught, very often His “teaching” came in the midst of a wedding, at a dinner party, beside a well, or en route through a field. In this regard, His living of time very much exemplifies the Greek word, καιρός (kairos), which we understand as an “opportune” or “favorable” moment or season, as opposed to χρόνος (chronos), which suggests the “duration” or “extent” of time—very much our American view: time as mechanical.[1] In other words, Jesus lived the present, and knew each moment as ripe with opportunity and grace.
And how was He able to do this? Because, I believe, He knew and experienced His Father as always and only present—which you and I can experience, even now, as I write and you read these words.
In time,
Stan
[1] A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and other early Christian Literature (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000), pp. 497, 1092.