Advent is upon us. And yet this means that what is upon us is…waiting.
We wait. We hope. We listen to quiet sounds and simple words. We see more clearly the needs of others. We see more clearly our own broken places. And we open our heart to what the gospel promises: God has come and will come again. And, on those plain words, everything hinges, absolutely everything.
In Advent Waiting, we remember that Mary marveled at the mystery of a baby come. We remember that Sara laughed at the ridiculous promise. We remember that ever-mumbling and ever-forgetful Israel simply didn’t believe that Moses would come back down from the mountain, that God would give them water and meat, that they were better off in the wilderness than in Egypt even if (especially if) all they had was God. We remember that we have doubted and struggled and laughed and wrestled … and believed. Indeed, we have believed – halting and feeble at times but, yes, we have believed. And we believe sill. This Advent, we believe. And we wait.
A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes… and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent. {Dietrich Bonhoeffer}
I hope to post at least one Advent peace each week. Join me for the journey.