Advent is the church
season when we watch and wait, preparing for the comings of Christ. During Advent we look for signs of
Christ—signs of God’s ever-abiding presence. And, we engage in being signs that Christ’s work continues
here and now. We proclaim good
news to the poor, release to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and
freedom to the oppressed. During
Advent we prepare the way for the Lord—the way into our personal lives and into
our community. We engage in
prayerful reflection and we serve others—guiding their faith development
and meeting their physical, spiritual, and emotional needs. Advent is the church season when we
wait expectantly—we wait for the comings of Christ.
Waiting—I’m
a product of the early Walt Disney fairy tale mentality. “Someday my prince will come.” My senior year in college, I was
waiting for my “prince”—my special someone to marry and share my life with—and
I was getting impatient. None of
my relationships seemed to carry the promise of life-long, loving
commitment. By the time I
graduated from UT Austin, I had become despondent in my waiting. I had begun to think that perhaps I
would be the 1st person in my extended family who did not get
married. I wonder if any of you know something about that kind of waiting. Looking back—with what my Daddy always called
20/20 hindsight—I can see that I did not have to wait very long before I met
and married my soul-mate. But at
the time—in the waiting—it seemed like forever.
Waiting—In
April of 1983 my mother told our Big Mama, “Guess what . . . I’m going to be a
grandma!” Big Mama said, “Oh, Mari
Lyn & Kevin are going to have a baby.
I’m so excited!” And my mom
said, “No, Kevin is still in
graduate school. It’s not Mari Lyn
& Kevin who are having a baby.”
And my Big Mama said, “Well, don’t tell me it’s C and A. I’ve given up on waiting for them.” Well, it was my brother and
sister-in-law, C and A. After 6 years of marriage—what apparently felt like forever
for Big Mama—they were getting ready to welcome another generation into our
family. I wonder if any of you know something about that kind of waiting.
Waiting—sometimes
we choose to wait—like C and A with lil C, and sometimes we are forced to wait,
like me with “my prince.”
Waiting—In
the Philippians text R read, the apostle Paul is waiting. Writing his letter to the church at
Philippi, Paul is waiting for a verdict. Accused of fomenting rebellion against
the Roman empire—proclaiming Jesus is Lord (instead of Caesar is Lord),
Paul awaits a verdict—an outcome of life or death. Under house arrest in Rome, Paul waited over 2 years before
his case was heard. And in the
midst of his waiting, in the uncertainty of his sentence, Paul writes about
being joyful, hopeful, and trusting.
“Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say
rejoice!”. . . 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by
prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to
God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will
guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” [1] Now how could Paul—waiting to hear whether he would
live or die, whether he would be set free or be imprisoned—how could Paul be
joyful, content, thankful, and hopeful in his waiting? I have such a hard time waiting in
regular, everyday situations.
Without a book to read to distract my thoughts, I get anxious waiting
for my doctor, dentist and even hair appointments! In what could have been the
darkness of despair, the silence of isolation, the paralysis of fear, Paul
waited in the promise of God’s presence, in the hopeful expectation of God’s
providence, and in the present joy of the Lord. Turning everything over to God—naming his fears, shouting
his frustrations, acknowledging his anger, stating his needs, revealing his
wants—turning everything over to God, Paul let go in his waiting. Paul’s relationship with God defined
his waiting.
In
today’s Old Testament text, Isaiah’s words were offered as hope to the Jewish
people when the Assyrian army overran the northern kingdom of Israel. “2 Surely God is my salvation; I
will trust and will not be afraid.”[2] As part of the oral tradition of prophets, these
words offered hope for the people of Jerusalem under siege by Nebuchadnezzar
100 years later. “the LORD, is my strength and my
shield; he has become my salvation.”[3] And after Jerusalem
fell, for the Jews in exile in Babylon for the next 70 years, Isaiah’s words continued
to offer hope. “3 With joy you will
draw water from the wells of salvation. 4 And you will say in that day: Give
thanks to the Lord, call on his name;”[4]
The Jews in exile looked forward in hope to the time when God would lead them
back home to Jerusalem. And for
those people, a couple of generations later who did return, Isaiah’s words affirmed
the hope that had lit the dark exile. “Sing
to the LORD, who has done glorious things; proclaim this throughout all the
earth." 6 Shout and sing for joy, city of Zion, because the holy
one of Israel is great among you.”[5]
Waiting—all
of these people were waiting as they held fast to the promises in today’s text—promises
offered, for most of them, years before their particular circumstance of
waiting. And for the people in Mary and Joseph’s day, Isaiah’s words still offered
hope. The Jewish people had been
waiting for 500 years—waiting for their kingdom to be restored, waiting for God’s
promised deliverer, waiting for the Messiah. They continued waiting hopefully because of the promises of
their faithful God, promises like the one in today’s text. “Surely it is God who saves me. I will trust in him and not be
afraid. For the Lord is my
stronghold and my sure defense. And he will be my savior.” [6]
In
our waiting—waiting for school to recess and holidays to begin; for Christmas
to come, so we can sing more carols and open our presents; in our waiting—waiting
for family relationships to return to a peaceful, happy balance, or for
reconciliation with a friend, neighbor, or co-worker; in our waiting—waiting to
hear from our college of choice or to hear how the job interview went; in our
waiting—waiting for grief to wane, or for healing to begin; in our waiting—waiting
for a soul-mate, or waiting for a child, or grandchild or great grandchild; in
our waiting—waiting for God’s presence to be made known amidst community and
national tragedy; in our waiting, we can hold fast to Isaiah’s promise and Paul’s
encouragement. God is our strength. God can be trusted. God is with us, and God is for us. In our waiting, we may feel afraid, but
we can respond with faith—looking for signs of God’s presence and expecting to
find him in people and places surrounding us. In our waiting, we may feel afraid, but we can respond with
faith—laying it all on the line for God to hear—naming our fears, our worries,
our frustrations—and then letting God take them, letting God take care of
them. Letting go and moving
forward, may we find ourselves at God’s overflowing well of healing and
wholeness. May we experience
waters of joy refreshing us and springs of hope flowing through our lives. May we dip our toes in the pools of God’s
presence, providence, and provision and be thoroughly renewed and reclaimed by
God’s love.
In
this season of Advent, may our waiting be joyful and hopeful. Amen.
Surely
it is God who saves me. I will
trust in him and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense. And he will be my savior.
[1]
Philippians 4: 4, 6 – 7 (New Revised Standard Version)
[2]
Isaiah 12: 2 (Revised Standard Version)
[3]
Isaiah 12: 2 (Common English Bible)
[4]
Isaiah 12:3 – 4 (New Revised
Standard Version)
[5]
Isaiah 12: 5 – 6 (Common English Bible)
[6]
This is a song I remember first singing in youth group or perhaps as a young
adult. I think it may be “The
First Song of Isaiah” by Jack Noble White, edited by Bob Dingley.
No comments:
Post a Comment