“When the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son into the world” (Gal 4:4).
Twenty-six years ago in the middle of the night, my wife woke me and said, “It’s time.” I was up and dressed in a flash and less than 20 minutes later we were pulling into the parking lot of Stormont Vail Hospital in Topeka, Kansas. Five hours later, our son was born.
Time has many forms, measured by clocks, by hearts and minds, racing ahead or dragging out, hanging tough or slipping away, generous and overflowing or relentless, stealing everything we have and are. Time has different names: Chronos for duration, Kairos for opportunity. The backdrop for human time is eternity, too vast for us to imagine. Dwarfed by its immense power, we need time to work out our freedom. Time, it has been said, was invented to keep everything from happening at once. Afloat in its eternal ocean, we need a lifetime to navigate our small stories toward some distant harbor.
Christmas is our glimpse of God’s larger purpose, which is the gift of a divine destiny for every human journey. A child is given, and in him the full measure of what it means to be alive is revealed. A starry night overflows with joy, first to shepherds, then to kings, but meant for everyone alert to its promise and challenge. Good News to all the world, a Savior is born, Christ the Lord. It's time.