{a meditation from the Gospel reading for the first week of Advent, Matthew 24:36-44}
Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.
Advent’s opening gospel reading gives our drowsy ears a jolt. Rather than visions of a rosy-cheeked Christ child, we hear of Noah’s flood that arrived with a shock, sweeping the world clear and an odd parable about workers sweating side by side – only, when the tale’s done, one has disappeared while the other stands alone, bewildered. There’s a final odd twist where Jesus likens God’s appearing to a midnight cat burglar who slips in through a window to pick a house clean while the family snoozes, a sentence that flies out of left field and should make every flatfooted preacher and every dry storyteller take very careful notes.
In each of these unlikely stories, the common theme is how God’s action interrupts and catches us off guard. The point is not to wag fingers so we’ll shape up and curtail the surprise, a kind of white-knuckle vigil. Rather, the narratives deliver a plain fact: God will surprise us. Whatever we figure God must do or whatever time table we insist God must follow, God seems to always manage something different. Like the lover who springs a proposal or the friend who shows up for the party when they’re supposed to be two continents away, God has panache.
Whether or not we receive God as a welcome surprise depends, I suppose, on whether or not we’re willing to be undone by love, whether or not we’ve got the moxie to say what the heck and exist at the mercy of God’s evocative – but always unruly – imagination. Our invitation is to live wide-eyed, aware that every single moment bears the possibility of God’s agile movement.
Advent, of course, is merely an occasion to remember what has always been true. God is never far. God is always near. And the only truly surprising thing would be if God were never to show up at all.
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This Advent, my friend John Blase and I are reflecting on the same text each week, on Mondays, from Sunday’s Lectionary readings. We aren’t talking about the texts ahead of time, simply reading and seeing where they take us. To enjoy the full conversation, hop over to John’s ruminations.
God is never far and always near. Grateful for your words today.
Thank you, Amy.
What a grand conversation – and a great idea. Thanks to you, Winn, and to you, John, for your fine thinking and good words.
every three years or so, I’ll stumble upon a fabulous idea. guess I’ll have a long stretch before the next one.
“God will surprise us.” I hope so, I really do, but man, the wait!
Those last two paragraphs are great, Winn. Looking forward to this series:)
no joke – the wait.
“Our invitation is to live wide-eyed, aware that every single moment bears the possibility of God’s agile movement.” Beautiful words. I can see the Spirit-filled wisdom in your writing. John Blase led me here; glad he did.
Any friend of John’s is a friend of mine. Thanks, Susan.
I love how God continues to open my eyes to His love. And your words …. wow. Such thrilling expectation at any moment. Love.
Winn, you have a way with words. I weep here this evening. Thank you.