You Are the Time — Open the Gates of Your Heart

What is that to you? Follow Me. John 21:22. These are the same four syllables C.S. Lewis brought to this journal in Agen, fourteen days ago. Lewis said: there are questions to which we may never know the answer — and if we ask them, even in a better world, we might be answered: what is that to you? Follow Me. And now Kempis brings them himself. The circle closes. Lewis quoted Jesus. Kempis quotes Jesus. Both arrive at the same place: Follow Me.

The curious inquiry into another's life — what he thinks, what he says, what he does — is none of your business. Not because it doesn't matter. But because it isn't yours. You have no need to answer for others. The final exam is not about the neighbor. It is about the soul. And the soul that entangles herself in others' affairs — watching, comparing, wondering — loses the godly peace that belongs to the inward gaze.

Kempis said it on day four: blessed are the single-hearted, for they shall have abundance of peace. The curious heart is not the single heart. The heart occupied with others' business is a heart divided — and the peace leaks out through every opening. Watch yourself in godly peace. Leave him who is unquiet to be unquiet as he will. The unquiet soul is not your responsibility. Your responsibility is your own peace.

And the closing assurance: he cannot deceive Me. The soul does not need to police the world. The Judge is already watching. And He is not deceived.

Kempis names three distractions that masquerade as blessings: the shadow of a great name, the friendship of many, the love of men. Each one looks like a gift. Each one begets distraction and great sorrows of heart. The reputation is a shadow — it looks solid but cannot be held. The friendship of many is a weight — it demands maintenance the soul cannot afford. The love of men is a drug — it satisfies for a moment and leaves the soul emptier than before.

And underneath the warning, the promise: My word should speak freely unto you, and I would reveal secrets. The secrets are available. The free speaking is available. But the condition is the open heart — diligently look for My appearing, and open unto Me the gates. The gates of the heart are opened by turning away from the outer — the reputation, the friendship, the opinion of others — and toward the inner, where He waits.

The shadow occupies. The voice reveals. They cannot both fill the same space. The soul chooses which one gets the room. The heart that is occupied with the shadow of a great name has no room for the voice of God. The heart that is empty of the shadow — that heart hears the secrets.

Augustine walks into the room and drops a bomb in one sentence. Stop blaming the era. Stop lamenting the culture. Stop watching the news and despairing. You are the time. The times are not something that happens to you. You are the times. Change yourself and the times change with you.

Kempis and Augustine — the monk and the bishop — saying the same thing from different centuries. Kempis says: stop troubling about the shadow of a great name, the friendship of many, the love of men. Watch yourself in godly peace. Augustine says: be you better. The inward gaze again. The soul attending to her own walk, her own heart, her own answer before God.

The morning before dawn is not an escape from bad times. It is the making of good times. The soul who rises before the world wakes — who opens the gates of her heart, who looks diligently for His appearing, who watches in godly peace — she is the time. She is not reacting to the age. She is shaping it. One morning at a time. One entry at a time. One open heart at a time.

Twenty-six days of Kempis. One hundred and five entries. From Caldas da Rainha to Sword Beach. And Augustine says: you are the time. The pilgrim in Normandy who reads a monk from 1379 and a bishop from the fifth century — she is not behind the times. She is the time itself.