It is not as mysterious as one might think. It testifies to a view of time as consisting of thresholds to be crossed, not containers to be filled. It emphasizes certain moments/thresholds as particularly meaningful. They serve as dividers between different periods. Crossing them is not moving from one uniform hour to the next, but moving from one state of being to another.
God starting outside of time and coming inside is a tricky notion. When did that transition take place? We can talk about a specific moment from our perspective on the inside, but how do you talk about “when” outside of time? It’s a little like asking which room of your house your backyard is in. Even the notion of a transition that doesn’t take place in time is mind-bendy.
Cockcrows and astronomical twilight are not durations, but temporal thresholds—significant, transformative moments. The story of Peter’s denial is not just one of time passing while he denies, but of the second cockcrow being a moment of revelation—a moment of insight in which Peter reflects on his denials and weeps, and a moment that changes Peter forever.
If God is an artist, time itself is his medium of choice. The result is not forms, but transformations: chaos to order, dust to life.
Did we spend our time well? Are we managing it as efficiently as possible? But if we measure our worth with time, what happens if not everyone agrees on the same measurement?