Lent: Kairos

  

My pastor on Sunday shared an interesting contrast in words.  The Greeks were bright enough to have two words for the concept of time.  Chronos refers to hours, minutes, seconds; the time I watch click by on the big, round clock across from me. The Greek god Chronos was represented with an hourglass and a scythe.  Symbolically appropriate, I'd say.  I've often felt the sting of the scythe of chronos.

Kairos, in contrast, is the word for "an appointed time," a "supreme moment."  It is the winged god holding the balance of time that has reached its tipping point.  It is the "ripeness" of time spoken of here:

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted…” and so on.

In the first Greek translations of the Bible, each use of the word ‘time’ in the above passage is rendered as kairos, not chronos.

Mark says, “The KAIROS has come, the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” Mark 1:15

I FEEL chronos.  I feel it in the shoulder that won't fully heal because of the sophomoric trick I did while snow tubing in January. I SEE it in the eyes and minds and bodies of my children.  

But I HEAR kairos.  The Holy Spirit speaks to me in the language of kairos.  Throughout the day it says, "Move now.  Speak now.  Listen now.  Give now.  Do now. Rest now."  

It told Esther:  "Now is your moment.  Speak."  It told Gideon, "You, unlikely man; you, man of valor.  This time is for you.  Move now!"  It told Jesus, "The time has come for the cross."

The Bible is drenched with kairos.  So is my life.  As  I listen carefully during this Lenten journey, I hear two sounds:  the unrelenting ticking of chronos and the unmistakable voice of kairos.  

Lent: Feet

I sometimes feel that lump of nostalgia rise in my throat over the passage of time, what it has done to the fuzzy-haired, footy-pajamaed bodies that used to shuffle up for a hug first thing in the morning, their favorite blankies trailing behind.  Now I look UP even to the 11-year-old.  Just a titch.  Today, my son will come down in a shirt and tie and beeline out the door for work with a quick hi.  The girls will be checking emails and instragrams while pouring their cereal.  If there are hugs, they will be initiated by me.  

When they were little, I pulled them aside one summer day and took a picture of their feet, which I framed and hung in the bathroom.  On days when I glimpse their impossibly big feet and have to grab the doorframe of the mudroom to brace myself against the shoe odor (Toms are the worst!), I make my way to that series of pictures and smile, praying for the hard and good places those feet will take them.  

My hands-down favorite mental picture of Jesus is him bent down washing the tired feet of his dusty band of misfits, the very hour of his death.  He taught powerfully with words and parables, but nothing short of the cross could express Isaiah's haunting words, "He humbled himself," like this tender act.  

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.  John 13:3-5

This was not out of character.  He got up and washed their feet because he came from God and was returning to God.  

A woman washed my feet once.  After a summer Bible study years ago, our hostess arranged a time of foot-washing.  We took turns washing and being washed.  It was awkward and lovely and memorable.  I could identify with Simon Peter, who protested, "No, this isn't right," but I could also sense the rightness of it.  The blessing.

 Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.  Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them. John 13:14-17

Lent reminds me that time is brief and should be filled with much bending and washing of feet, even in our worst moments.

Peace, Balance, and Other Pipedreams

On behalf of myself and others, I have prayed for peace more times than I can count.  Peace in the midst of trials; peace about a decision made; peace for the haggard mind.   I wonder why peace is the hand that holds me one moment, and the kite string that slips through my fingers the next.

If I decide to be at peace with a situation, wham! a torrent of discontent washes through me. Peace is not a perpetual rain, it is an oasis in the desert, where you splash your face and drink before it evaporates in the heat.  

Christ said, "Peace I leave with you.  My peace I give to you, not at the world gives, but as a friend." 
 -John 14:27

What does He mean?

I think He means that we are travelers passing through this awkward world, and what we need more than anything is a friend.  The world says peace is a lack of interior conflict.  Christ implies that peace is a Friend who reminds you that heaven alone is the absence of conflict.  

This all wraps around to an odd truth, which dawned on me while driving home yesterday listening to Andrew Peterson's new CD.  Peace comes from accepting there is no peace...here, yet.

Balance is as elusive as peace.  That earth tilts on its axis is no coincidence; it is one of a million natural word pictures operating as a metaphor for life on earth.  

We, as eternal beings, were never meant to find balance and peace in the confines of time.  We long for more time, so that everything that we value can receive our attention, but the hourglass, the pendulum clock, the sun dialing across the sky...they are all unforgiving.  

So I splash my face and call it one day closer to peace.

Stepping Off the Page and Into the Day

I cracked open my Bible today just as the birdsong broke loose outdoors.  The feathered choir was the perfect soundtrack for Luke 9, where I joined 5000 hungry people, sitting on grassy knolls, eating bread and fish until our bellies were full.  I got the impression that only the 12 disciples knew they were starting with five loaves and two fish.  The hillside crowd thought they were at a free banquet, while the disciples were sweating bullets. 

I'm not sure why Jesus fed the crowd.  It doesn't say he was buttering us up so he could share a "sermon on the mount."  He stood over the meager fare, gave thanks, and fed the people, then sent around the disciples to gather the leftovers.  What did he do with the leftovers?  Don't know.

What it does say is that after the crumbs were gathered, he led his dearest friends to a private place to pray and probe their hearts.  "Who do you say that I am?" 

It seems he was more interested in their personal transformation than in the crowd's satiation.

As I read this passage, I moved from the girl chewing bread on the hill to an insider, circling closely around this strange man, eager to hear his thoughts.  And then this God-Man lays it on the line to that ragged, motley crew of men, and to me, this ragamuffin girl....

Take up your cross daily and follow me.

Lose your life to gain it.

Do not be ashamed of me and my words.

These are not the Ten Commandments or even the Greatest Two.  This is not the Golden Rule.  These are instructions for those of us who want to conform our lives to Christ.  Don't call yourself a disciple and ignore these commands.  Figure out how to live them. 

If my arms are full of the cross, they cannot be idle.  They cannot push people away.  They are full of the people God loves; busy doing Kingdom work. 

If my feet are following Christ, they are not wandering off the path, bored and looking for a little excitement.  They are swift and beautiful as they run to serve.

If I am laying down my life for Christ, I am not busy self-indulging my desires, pampering my days and fluffing my pillows.  My hands are calloused and my heart is soft. 

And if I am truly unashamed of the gospel of Christ, my words are salty and life-giving, not laced with gossip and innuendo, nor mindless chatter. 

I have choices to make as I close the laptop and rise from my comfy couch.  How will I treat my children today?  How will I bless my husband?  Who will I cross paths with, and how can I sprinkle salt and life upon them?  How often can I set down my own desires for those of another?  What cross might I be asked to carry today, heavy and painful.  Will it be mine or that of another? 

These are lofty, idealistic questions.  I am the first one to admit that ideals and spoken priorities do not always match habits.  So I will leave us with this challenging quote...

Don't waste your breath proclaiming what's really important to you.  How you spend your time says it all.  There's no sense talking about priorities.  Priorities reveal themselves.  We're all transparent against the clock. -Betsey Stevenson 

The Science of Time

Chronos is the Greco-Roman god of Time, found in ancient mosaics as an old man spinning the Zodiac Wheel.  Father Time.  Serious.  Unstoppable. 

Chronology is the science of locating events in time.  It's timelines and dates and wars and all the stuff of a history lover laid in the proper order. 

To me, a mom with a little calendar on the fridge full of scribbles and lists, chronology is simple: 

first things first....

make the coffee

wake up before everyone else to meet with God

snuggle with the bleary-eyed, disheveled little bodies that shuffle toward you in the morning light

kiss your husband good-bye, surprise him with a little passion, heck with the coffee breath

hug and compliment each kiddo before you start in on the to-do lists and hurry ups

everyone puts away 10 things or does a chore to help the house stay fresh and clean...the colors of the day are brighter with a clean palate rather than a muddy one

pray together

when there is family tension, stop what you're doing and work it out or help them work it out...people's hearts are more important than whatever you are doing

If I was conducting an experiment in which I had to fill a jar with different size rock and sediment, I would, of course, start with the big rocks.  The aforementioned things would be the big rocks.  Everything else would be the sediment, settling in the open spaces, but never taking the place of the big rocks.

Did you notice that stone statue of Chronos in the picture?  He has wings.  Because, well, there is that heart-wrenching aspect of time...

it flies.