What time is it?
In How to Inhabit Time, James K. A. Smith intends to show the value of understanding when you are. As the title suggests, this is not a book to help you manage your days or maximize your hours, but to inhabit the life God has given you through the development of spiritual timekeeping. Smith’s goal is as ambitious as it is vague, seeking “to occasion an awakening, a dawning awareness of what it means to be the sort of creatures who dwell in the flux of times flow” (xii).
Perhaps you can already tell whether or not this book is for you. Pastors interested in imaginative reflection in an age haunted by strange combinations of rootlessness, nostalgia, and restlessness will find their thoughts abundantly provoked. Other readers may be frustrated by a lack of practicality, theological clarity, and biblical guidance.
Overview
Smith’s main argument is that many Christians suffer from a kind of spiritual amnesia or presentism—a failure to understand themselves as historical beings shaped by a past that is both personal and communal. This failure leads to what Smith calls nowhen Christianity, a kind of temporal dislocation akin to physical disorientation. These confused yet confident souls “imagine themselves wholly governed by timeless principles…. They are oblivious to the deposits of history in their own unconscious…. They live as if hatched rather than born, created ex nihilo rather than formed by a process” (4). Smith wants his readers to embrace their temporal situatedness rather than seek refuge in abstraction, timeless principles, or a dehistoricized form of faith.
To achieve this goal, Smith shifts through an intriguing but occasionally disorienting series of forms: poetry, biblical reflection, memoir, theology, extended metaphor, and philosophical aphorism. Those acquainted with Smith’s previous writing will find him leaning on familiar sources. Philosophers like Augustine, Kierkegaard, Heidegger, and Charles Taylor feature prominently, along with classic rock lyrics, modern authors, and movie quotes. The argument continually circles and refracts, which is appropriate for a book intending to promote reflection rather than reach a definitive, systematic endpoint.
Evaluation
Readers who appreciate literary theology will find in Smith an elegant stylist. His prose is elevated and smooth. Smith is also clearly on to something with the substance of his argument. American Christianity, perhaps even American culture more broadly, can often be characterized by its amnesia. Many Christians struggle with processing the past and finding their place in the present. There is a reason why Smith has claim to being among the most quotable modern Christian authors. He has provided endless material for essays, think pieces, and blog posts. He has his finger on the pulse of our world, and he writes about it with panache. How to Inhabit Time is no exception.
Smith’s style, however, is a weakness as well as a strength. His language is evocative and impressionistic but lacks the clarity to make it truly beneficial. Complex questions are raised but left suspended in ambiguity. The solutions that are provided tend more toward the therapeutic than the truly theological. Sin is cast as temporally disorienting brokenness, leaving the solution to be a spiritual maturity that inhabits our histories rather than denying or repressing them. He rarely mentions the only sure and steady anchor for the traumatized or disoriented Christian —the atonement of Christ—preferring to discuss grace in existential rather than forensic terms.
More broadly, the book’s method relies far more on philosophy and art than on Scripture. Smith quotes Kierkegaard and Heidegger more frequently than Paul or the prophets. At times, Scripture seems more like a seasoning than a source. This is not to say that Smith ignores the Bible, but that his engagement with it tends to be thematic or metaphorical rather than exegetical. For example, his brief reflections on Ecclesiastes are insightful, but they function more as springboards for meditation than as careful biblical exposition.
The book also reflects some of the recurring themes of Smith’s other work, especially his critique of modernity, his distrust of Enlightenment rationalism, and his emphasis on embodied practices and formation. Readers familiar with Desiring the Kingdom, You Are What You Love, or On the Road With Saint Augustine will recognize these threads. Yet in How to Inhabit Time, the reflections feel less anchored. Smith warns against nostalgic traditionalism and reactionary political engagement—he is particularly critical of attempts to reclaim a golden past—but he offers little by way of constructive guidance.
Indeed, Smith’s recent trajectory seems to be proof of the danger of inhabiting the present at the expense of the past. Before drinking too deeply from Smith’s well, readers should be aware that his theological commitments appear to be shifting in ways that depart significantly from historic Christian doctrine. In recent years, he has publicly voiced affirmation for same-sex relationships, even advocating that the college where he teaches—Calvin College—cut ties with its denomination—the Christian Reformed Church—because of the CRC’s recent return to a biblical definition of marriage. While How to Inhabit Time does not directly address issues of human sexuality, readers can note the underpinnings of Smith’s aberrant theology in the book’s emphasis on jettisoning the baggage of the past and its favoring of subjective experience over timeless biblical and confessional authority.
Recommendation
To Smith’s credit, he is clear about his goal from the outset of the book. He did not intend to write a systematic theology or a manual for preaching. It is more like a spiritual memoir laced with philosophical reflection. In that sense, the book may be useful as a companion for pastors who themselves are wrestling with the weight of time—be it through aging, regret, institutional fatigue, or disillusionment with the culture wars. Smith names certain aches that others only feel, and for that reason alone, some readers may find the book pastorally helpful.
Still, one cannot help but wish the book had more substance. Lutheran readers will likely wish that Smith had gone further: further into the Scriptures, further into Christ, and further into the concrete comfort of the means of grace.