Advent: Presence in the Waiting

Guest

“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen for the morning,
more than watchmen for the morning.

O Israel, hope in the Lord!
For with the Lord there is steadfast love,
and with him is plentiful redemption.” Psalm 130:5-7 ESV

By Jenn Crider, Associate Pastor, St. Bartholomew’s Anglican Church, Dallas, TX

The invitation to wait with hope has long been woven throughout the narrative of the people of God revealed in Scripture. And it continues in the story of redemption God is writing in and through His people as we await the fulfillment of the promised new creation.

As the Word was made flesh following Israel’s 400 years of waiting, represented by the simple page turn between the Old and New Testaments in our Bibles, the beginning of the liturgical year holds a foundation of waiting in Advent.

Contrary to our societal norms of instant gratification and knee-jerk reactions, waiting—especially waiting with hope—is not passive. Perhaps that is why the imagery of pregnancy and birth is so often associated with Advent and waiting. There is struggle, joy, discomfort, wonder, impatience, mystery and awe in the slow work of growth.

And yet, the expansion in the waiting is necessary to receive the fullness of the gift.

It is what makes the incarnation even more remarkable as we recognize the wildly unexpected nature of the Messiah choosing to come through vulnerability, being “knit together” in the womb (Psalm 139:13). Our Creator chose to be formed in the creation of new life on earth to be fully with us as Emmanuel.

The King comes not by the traditional means of preserving power through force, but by redefining power through choosing presence.

Further, Advent not only reminds us how the Kingdom has come through Christ, but it is still coming as we wait with patience and hope while the whole of creation groans with the pains of childbirth for the promised new creation (Romans 8:22-25).

In the tension of this already/not-yet Kingdom, Advent reveals that our collective and individual foundation of waiting is an active process where we embrace both the comfort that the new creation will come and the conviction to participate with God in bringing the Kingdom to earth as it is in Heaven here and now.

As the world becomes increasingly loud and filled with unending distractions, we need marked reminders such as the Sabbath in the scope of a week and Advent in the scope of the year to stop, slow down, listen to what God has done and is doing, be present with the Creator and creation, and not anesthetize the ache of the growth but allow our hopes and fears to be distilled as we wait.

This is no small thing to choose presence in the waiting, and the people of God have struggled with it since the beginning. We see the warnings and the temptations to build our own golden idols in the desert like the Israelites, to cling to our definition of the law and the privilege of power like the Pharisees and to fall asleep in the garden like the disciples.

So what does it look like for us to wait, witness and be with God and others as Immanuel has come to be with us?

As a working mom of four small children, my personal life certainly doesn’t reflect the “perfect” conditions of tranquility I might expect are needed to be fully present to God in the waiting. And all around us, it seems the groaning of creation is getting louder and divisiveness is pulsing with greater intensity. Yet God has never asked us to be in a perfect place to cry out personally and collectively, “Come, Lord Jesus.”

Intentionality in this season will look different for each of us, but we do get to choose where we give our presence. We can ask the Lord where our attention should be. We can be attentive to what surfaces in the ache of the wait. What darkness in our own life needs to be pierced by the Light of the World, and how can Christ through us pierce the darkness in the world around us?

So we wait. And dare to hope. We allow the space for mystery and unanswered questions while choosing to trust that the new creation is coming. And as we feel the pangs of labor and wonder “How long, oh Lord?” we know we are ultimately held by the one who knit us together and chose to be knit together like us.

For we do not serve a God far off, but a God who is still with us and loves us enough to keep inviting us to more fullness in Him until we at last experience the fullness of the coming Kingdom.