One of the fascinating things that Jesus ever said was that He didn’t know the time of His return. I have wondered what that meant for my understanding of the Trinity for years. It is something I have not resolved, nor found the explanation of others sufficient. He seemed to be very much God-the-Son in so many other situations, in knowledge, in power, and in seeing what would certainly happen. But here He is limited. The only other times I have seen in Scripture where Jesus was limited was in His surprise about someone’s belief, when He found the faith of someone higher than He would have expected. But I am not sure at those times if He was really just making something He did know more dramatically obvious.
But in Luke 12:40, He says He does not know the time of His return. In other places He is more specific and says that only the Father knows. I thought they were One, but I see from this statement that I do not really understand what that means. They are not necessarily One-and-the-Same. This clear limit in my understanding of my Master is necessary. It is just one of many examples where my Master exceeds my boundaries of understanding. I see things in Scripture and in my life that illustrate those limits and I am drawn to worship my Master more deeply. As I have said before, I should expect that One capable of forming stars and the limits of such a universe to be inexplicable by human reasoning.
But Chambers brings out another element to this passages I think is interesting. Rather than point out the obvious end-time Eschatological meaning, he points out the rather immanent daily meaning. It is there only by extension, but a possible interpretation. The parables Jesus use allow for a regular occurrence in daily life. Which brings readiness down to the local time level. I need to be ready to encounter Jesus at work. I need to be ready to encounter my Master on the way to work (a slower, more tranquil driver perhaps?). I need to be ready so that when He finds me, He will be pleased with what He finds. I should not be hiding among the trees with the latest in broad-leaf wear, but right out in the garden, tending as He left me to do.
Being ready in this sense is at first, somewhat stressful. The tension at constant readiness wears on my ability to maintain the correct attention level. Yet, this isn’t to be ready to be attacked, or to race to a fire, or to attack an enemy. This is to be ready for someone’s arrival Whom I love and Who loves me. It is a bit different than the expectant waiting that I can find at most airports, fewer train stations, and rarely at a bus station (except for Grand Central in New York, that place has everyone at most any time). Waiting of that sort interrupts the daily routine. This sort happens in the course of the day. It’s not an interruption, but a part of the day.
For years, I considered that the day would not be today. I goofed off. I was not about tending the garden in which I was placed. I was not pointing to Jesus, but enjoying whatever captured my attention. At least that is how it appeared. In reality, I was embroiled in more inner turmoil and distress than if I had been waiting for my Masters immanent appearance. By trying to fix my own problems, by trying to appear other than I am, and by attempting to hide behind a façade made of rotten props and poster board, I harbored shame and guilt in hidden reservoirs. It was more stressful pretending to be ready, than to actually be ready. I operated under the illusion that I somehow earned grace, that I could appear good enough and impress other people, as if that would be pleasing to my Master. In reality, I behaved as if Jesus was not my Master. It was as if I did not really believe in Jesus but just wanted to appear to believe. I was insane.
But the journey of the past year has brought me to the brink if sanity. I have begun a trek into the undiscovered country of faith that I only dreamed of before. The theological studies which were theory so many years ago are becoming concrete experiences. I am emerging from a life characterized by shame and sin into a life of purpose and joy. It’s something I discover about myself rather than bring about by effort. My effort is focused on my relationship to my Master, and His power and grace draw me from the depths. It is happening for me. Yet I feel the closeness of the Accuser. I sense the murmurings of the flesh I used to pamper and feed. I still hear the whisperings of the life I led seeking to draw me in, just on the edge of hearing, distracting me, seeking to have my attention, and playing on my curiosity to hear more fully. I know those voices. They were my companions of old, my imaginary friends, they were the finger puppets of my Enemy. As I was insane, I can say that they were all in my head, and they were.
People are more human now. I see them differently, and it feels good. I have discovered that my Master has made changes in me, and I like them. My discipline remains the same: Wait, worship, and walk before Him. I blog, pray, and seek Him throughout the day. My life is changing and all I have done is make myself more available to my Master. I am “being transformed by the renewing of my mind.” I am obeying the passive imperative, and I like the results.
So out I go into another day. I wonder where I will encounter my Master today.
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