By Joe LaGuardia
One of my childhood dreams was to speak a different language and adventure across Europe like one of those old spy or action heroes I watched on television. My favorite was Indiana Jones, who spoke many languages and read hieroglyphics, many found in his father’s journal, enabling him to foresee traps and dangers along the way.
Others I know have had similar dreams. Some imagined that they were heroes from one of those old Zane Grey novels, able to speak the native tongue of Cherokees across the west in order to defeat maniacal villains bent on greed and blood lust.
I am personally fond of the late Atlanta writer, Lewis Grizzard, who said that sometimes our actions speak louder than words. He recalls a time when he was delayed in an airplane on the Hartsfield-Jackson Airport tarmac. When he looked out of his little port window, he saw a Delta mechanic starring quizzically at his plane, scratching his head with a wrench.
In high school, my childhood dreams quickly faded as I realized I didn’t have a knack for languages. I almost failed Italian. Twice. And I am full-blooded Italian.
Some people are good at learning new languages, some are not. What I do know is that Advent is the season when we come together as a church and learn an entirely different language altogether: God’s language, the language of time.
The New Testament uses two Greek words for “time”. One is chronos, where we get the word chronometer, which points to human, linear time — the passing of hours and days, minutes and seconds.
The second word is Kairos, which points to time that transcends the linear passing of hours. It is the time of divinity, so to speak, where Trinity and spirit exist apart from what we know of as human beings.
It is larger than any calendar, it is cosmic and entails the entire fabric of creation, the heavens and the earth, and who we are as God’s people.
In Romans 13, Paul stated that we believers know what time—what Kairos—it is because we speak God’s language of time: one laden with hope and joy, anticipation rather than anxiety, one in which we know that our life is not our own.
It is kairos caught up in the larger drama of God’s redemption found in scriptures of old, and finding its fullest reach in the person of Jesus Christ, who submitted himself to our chronos, our span of life, in order to die and rise again, to bend time towards justice by giving us all the gift of overcoming time too, to taste none other than eternal life.
Do we speak that kind of language? Do we know what time it is?
The world seems so anxious about time. Some want more of it; others have too much of it. We are anxious about those things that create a sense of urgency in our life. Other times, we foretell the “end of the world,”perhaps with the election of a new president or the advent of a new millennium.
People who face their fragility and the extent of their time on earth plunge into despair, the acute recognition that death is around the corner. That is the type of language the world speaks; it falls short on hope and the promise of eternal communion in the presence of God.
When Paul tells us that we know what time it is, that we are to live as people not anxious about time, we are awakened to our liberty in Christ, to have an understanding that transcends 24 hours and 7 days a week.
‘Tis the season to move beyond the seasons.
God’s language also celebrates at least three “times” in our life:
- The time to celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior, born to a virgin long ago in a far off place of Galilee which up to that point only provided the world with peasants rather than a prince of peace, King of kings.
- A time to celebrate God’s in-breaking in our life today as we witness Christ born anew in our hearts, and also allowing us to be born unto God. To be able to birth the hope and love of Christ in world that only knows the pain of birth pangs.
- A time to anticipate the return of Jesus Christ to the earth, His Second Coming when he will judge the living and the dead, unfurl the great scroll of the book of life, and then grant us new, imperishable bodies in which we live in God’s new heaven and new earth, where tempest waters are as still as glass, where lion and lamb slumber together, and where children play with the likes of asps and vipers.
It is in Advent when we experience Jesus as our hero, one who teaches us a new language and speaks God’s kairos, a hero that puts to rest the anxiety we all feel when worrying about what tomorrow might bring.
It is about what is “now”, and salvation in Christ’s ultimate judgement and redemption that is the “not-yet”.
And in that tension of “now-and-not-yet,” we find hope to love deeply, worship richly, and live our life by walking to the beat and time signature of a different drum.
For many, time represents what one poet calls the “long unrest.” But for us who live into Advent and celebrate Christ’s birth and life, we allow that long unrest to turn into wakeful celebration. We may not know French or Russian, but we know what time it is!
“In Him the long unrest is soothed and stilled; in Him our hearts are filled.”