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Here’s an item from The List of Things That Fascinate Jim: time.

But I’m not the only one whose eye time has caught.  Dig into some philosophy, whether ancient or modern, Western or Eastern, and you'll find innumerable pages about the subject.  And ditto science: some of my best friends are STEM-heads, and they tell me that the science of time is heady and complex.  String theory and multiverses, anyone?

And wait a second, the theologians have entered the chat!  Multiple religious traditions have pondered the relationship between God and time.  Maybe you haven’t, but try this on for size: if God is timeless, as most Christians would hold, how does a timeless God engage with a time-bound creation?  And when God engages time, does God become less timeless, or creation less time bound?  Etc.

However, for all of the theoretical oceans in which time allows us to swim, time is also quite practical, and often crushingly so.  As in, we never have enough of it.  To one extent or another, we’re all Jack Bauer, and the clock is always ticking down against us.

Think of the nomenclature we attach to time, and of how frequently we use words in regard to time that commodotize it.  We can buy time, spend time, waste time, redeem time.  All the while, the bedrock assumption is that time is always running out.

What to make of time?  Well, here at Bread and Circus, we’ll tend to consider various issues from different biblical horizons.  From the scriptural storyline of the fall, then, it would stand to reason that it can feel like time isn’t on our side.  It’s a broken, fallen world out there!  Paul reminds us, after all, to “make the best use of the time, because the days are evil” (Eph 5:16).  But speaking of redemption––cf. the King James Version rendering of that verse from Ephesians––one of the gifts that comes to us from the cross is endless, abundant time.  Like the old hymn says, “We have no less days to sing God’s praise/Than when we first begun.”

The gospel of Jesus offers us many precious promises and invitations, one of which is that we can relate to time in a new way.  If we truly believe that an eternity with Jesus in the new heavens and earth stretches before us, time is no longer a tyrant.  Whatever time we might lose, Jesus will give again in the age to come!  

In the book of Matthew, Jesus tells the first disciples, “Freely you have received; freely give” (10:8).  Jesus here is speaking most directly about generosity with material possessions, but the same rubric can apply also to time.  In Jesus, Christian, you have all the time in the world (to come).  You have now received the gift of time; now, freely share it.

The church of Jesus Christ around the world and throughout the ages has been hip to this God-and-time thing for a while now.  And what do you know, but one of the foundational principles underlying the annual liturgical calendar of the church is that God is Lord of time.  Time isn’t a random free agent that answers to no master.  The Almighty has created time and uses it for his own purposes and glory––an aim that the liturgical calendar seeks to support.

Here’s your cliffhanger.  According to the liturgical calendar, the new year doesn’t start on January 1.  Instead, it begins on the first Sunday of Advent, which this time around the sun is December 1.  For most of us, December is a month to wrap up the year and snuggle down for a long winter’s nap, and January is the time for launching into new beginnings.  In the church’s liturgy, however, we’re called to turn the page and start anew in December.  Or better, in Advent.  

Don’t touch that dial.  See ya next week for a part two.

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