Does God keep time?

One of the difficulties and theological paradoxes of being a chaplain is timing. In order to provide consistent service and availability to the patients, families and staff, chaplain's need to be scheduled, guaranteeing time of presence. So 8am-5pm time slots are determined, on-call hours are doled out, and unlimited time is offered. In some moments, these scheduled times don't seem to be enough for the situation at hand. A patient is entering death but not always within the clocked hours so other staff, providing renewal after spent time to the family and chaplain. Other moments are filled with emotions and pain that have covered a lifetime but somehow need to be shared in the day's brevity.

Pagers squeal without consideration of time.

Hearts stop too soon in a person's timeline.

Babies squeeze out, ready or not.

The time of the chaplain, however, can also be empty of work, connection, or need. The 8-5 schedule holds openness for conversation without many to see. Some connections happen spontaneously, being in just the right time and place, but not scheduled. And many conversations require multiple attempts of initiation, time of waiting and hoping that being present despite being forced or asked will be enough to establish a time of nurturing and not a time of twiddling my thumbs.

Patients send us away in a snap.

Pages go heeded only to be dismissed upon the called check in.

Life and death journey without rush.

When I try to bring understanding to my faith around the concept of time, I see God in it all. I also wonder how aware God is of time compared to me. Do things go slow for him or always race by? I can't imagine he ever feels bored, like the time isn't filled, but then why do I? Did Jesus get bored, just waiting for the time the men bring out the adulterous woman to be condemned? His timing had great significance to Mary and Martha when their brother died. Still, Jesus' timing worked- Lazarus had no lasting effects of an extra day in the tomb. Still, for all involved and witnessing this moment, the four days stood out to everyone. Timing in this experience of death infused the whole situation with mystery and miracle. Finally, Holy Week ebbed and flowed in poignant time of dinner to the dark night, a moment of adoration to the sorrow of denial, the hanging to the rest in a tomb, the abandoned death clothes to joy-filled reunion. As I reflect on each of the points of time, I realize the emotions, hopes, sorrow, and devotion require all of that time to reach their deepest measure. Peter is changed in the 24 hours of Holy Saturday- wailing, wondering, waiting. Pontus Pilot rushes forward in his decision to avoid the chaos and decree according to tradition of time and festival.

This paradox of time, God's presence, the mysterious ebb and flow direct me as a chaplain directly as much as it does my patients. I realize even as I write this, my attitude and outlook on this day, my time at the hospital and the overall summer time as a chaplain is taking a different shape, being redefined. I won’t deny boring days come alongside the hectic days. I think faith illuminates a new purpose and power from these realities. No longer are they simply clips of time- dragging or racing- but they are moments where humanity meets the sacred.