The way we talk about time is telling. For the most part, we complain about it. There’s never enough time. Except those times when there was too much time and we got bored. It goes too slow, or too fast.
We talk about time like it’s a commodity — something in our grasp. We say we’re making time for this or that. Or, we’re wasting time. Sometimes we lose time or lose track of it, only to try to get some back or make some up. We wish we could go back in time, sometimes.
We even talk about killing time.
As parents, we know time with our kids is precious. We also wish bedtime would come just a bit quicker.
Time is always on our minds. There’s no escaping time. We’re stuck in it.
But, how we deal with time makes all the difference. When I was doing youth ministry, I used to have a group of appointed teen leaders (aka. peer ministers). I would interview the applicants for this leadership group and one of the questions I would ask went something like this: If I were to be stationed in some observation tower above your daily life, how would I be able to distinctly know that you were a Christian?
Admittedly, it’s the kind of question intended to get someone squirming a bit. And, it worked. It’s also a darn good question for my own examination of conscience.
But, what if we apply it to time? How does the way you handle time differ from the non-Christian? Does it?
God, as the Catechism puts it, is beyond space and time. In the beginning, he creates space and time. God is the maker of time. Did you catch that? Only God makes time.
This means that we don’t make time for anything or anyone. All time is a gift from the Creator. So, when we complain about time, we’re complaining about a gift. When we say there’s not enough of it, it’s like the little child whining that he doesn’t have enough ice cream while what he’s got melts down the cone, down his hand, and down his forearm — dripping on the floor.
And, what about wasting time? Or killing it? Isn’t that something?! It’s akin to taking a gift and throwing it out the window.
Most of the time, the way we handle time is tragic, because:
In the fullness of time, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to ransom those under the law, so that we might receive adoption. As proof that you are children, God sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying out, “Abba, Father!” (Gal. 4:4-6)
In other words, God didn’t only make time, God took the time for us. God has time — he has time for you and for me. In time, we can encounter he who is eternal — outside of time.
Time is a gift. Time is a mercy.
The Church knows this.
In her treasury of prayers, she has something called a morning offering. The morning offering is a way of putting first things first. It acknowledges right off the bat that the time of this day is a gift — one worth living well and offering back to the Giver of every good and perfect gift. It’s not something I make for myself. It’s not something I should waste or kill. It’s not something I ought to willy-nilly lose track of, and whatnot.
It’s a gift to be received, lived, and returned as an offering.
This is only fitting for we who are anointed in baptism as those ordinary priests participating in Christ’s priesthood — as those given time to make an offering of our lives to God. A morning offering calls this to mind and forms how we approach the day.
It’s worth looking at a few morning offerings that come to us through the tradition.
The first was composed in 1844 by Fr. François-Xavier Gautrelet (found in Catholic Household Blessings and Prayers, pg. 48)
O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of your Sacred Heart, in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world, for the salvation of souls, the reparation of sins, the reunion of all Christians, and in particular for the intentions of the Holy Father this month. Amen.
This rich prayer enters into the hearts of Jesus and Mary, binding every part of the day to the beating of these hearts and the liturgical pulse of the Catholic Church. It’s a truly Catholic prayer — pushing beyond any privatized “me-and-Jesus” business, and into the fact that in God’s providence, we participate, so to speak, in the salvation of humanity.
A second form appears in Liturgy of the Hours, Monday, Morning Prayer of Week 1:
Father, may everything we do begin with your inspiration and continue with your saving help. Let our work always find its origin in you, and through you reach completion.
This straightforward prayer acknowledges that God is the source and destiny of the day’s work, and his inspiration and grace is the means by which anything fruitful gets done — because without him, we can do nothing (cf. Jn. 15:5).
Finally, I want to highlight a raw, vulnerable morning offering — one in which you lay down your plan for the day, your agenda, and allow God to rearrange, prioritize, and cross things off the list. This one is a bit more extemporaneous. Fr. Michael Scanlan highlights this in his book Appointment with God:
Every morning of my life I set my agenda before God. I ask Him first of all if the agenda makes sense and whether I should be attempting to do everything I have written down. Almost every day God knocks something off my list. As a result, I have more time to do what needs to be done. I am forever thinking that I need to do things that God doesn’t really want me to do. When I put my schedule before Him, it becomes clear that I don’t need such a full schedule. Either I don’t have to do everything, or it would be better to do it later, or it would be done best with a different combination of people. Ask God questions and He will give you the answers.
God is the Lord of time, and he's the Lord of “my time.” This method from Fr. Scanlan sets the record straight. It frees us from idolatry — from idolizing the list, our ideals, some achievements, etc. It simply frees us to do what God wants us to do, which is always the right thing to do.
Busy people don’t have a lot of time (ha!). But, we all certainly have a minute upon waking to offer the whole of the day to God — and maybe even the courage to ask God to rearrange our priorities and expectations to align with his for our days. A small offering makes a big difference.