I keep thinking of these words I read in a beautiful little book this week – and they came crashing over me in church today as we sang, “Come Jesus Come, We’ve been waiting so long…”
Advent – that word that quite literally means “coming” and embodies that long, tortuous wait.
I remember those nights in Africa – all we had was a little stump of a tree chopped down in the jungle near our house in the village. Decorated with sparse ornaments, but to a little girl, it held all the promise and wonder of the “not yet”. When would it be time to start the Christmas celebration? The minutes turned to hours, and I can still feel my stomach tighten in anticipation.
But we were on a different schedule in those days. We had many visitors coming by, and many wouldn’t leave until late at night. We couldn’t start our family celebration until we were alone – and so this young girl waited.
Advent. The desire in the Now for the Not Yet. I feel that every year when Christmas rolls around … and I turn my eyes heavenward, because I know He has promised to come back and set things right. Like He started to when He came the first time.
On this 3rd week of Advent, I feel the stirring in my stomach as I wait. And as we sing that beautiful song, “Come Jesus Come”, I feel a double anticipation … it’s getting close.
As Christmas nears, what are we thinking about? How many gifts left to purchase? All that needs to be done this week? The schedule, the travel, the preparations… they threaten to consume and block out the light sometimes. So when I read these words this week, they caught my attention:
“One thing I have asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD… wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD. Ps 27:4 & 14
Advent – that word that quite literally means “coming”. The answer to the wait.
And here at the start of a new week, as my to do list threatens to cloud out all rational thought, I ask God to remind me of His promise and to help me wait in hopeful anticipation, knowing He is a God who keeps all His promises. Let us all take a moment to lift our eyes above the fray and watch for His appearing.
I set the book down slowly, trembling a little inside.
Here, on this first Sunday of Advent. Advent … that word that is all about anticipation, waiting … something I am so bad at.
Especially when the waiting hurts.
I remember those days so well. When my friend sat in that restaurant with me the other night and poured out her heart about the darkness that had invaded one of the most special places in her life, I remembered those days. When she told me about the ensuing fear that kept her from wanting to be back in that place, I remembered the fear that had wrapped itself around me as well in those days.
Sometimes we don’t want to remember.
But then I read his words in this book about Christmas. In speaking of Advent, that sacred season of waiting, he encouraged the reader to “meditate on some long journey in your life, when the promise of deliverance seemed far away. Reflect on the mercies of God that were with you in the midst of your “expectant waiting”. Well, this reader didn’t necessarily want to meditate on that long, dark journey… but God has already been stirring it up in my heart, and once again it came flooding back. I could almost taste that dizzying anxiety and fear that threatened to encompass my life in those days. It didn’t really feel like “expectant waiting” in those days… more like reluctant floundering.
Sometimes people ask how to hear the voice of God in their lives. While at times it can be hard to discern, there are other moments that the sacred echo of His hearthrob cuts through all the fog in a crescendo that is impossible to ignore. This is one of those times. Walk with me through the last couple of weeks.
It began that night in the restaurant with my friend. My mind and my heart racing back to that consecrated darkness when God was so silent and seemed so far away, but had quietly wrapped Himself all around me in the middle of my battle.
A week later, on a quiet and unassuming morning, my eyes stumbled across this selection of verses and I knew that my God had providentially set them there for me to find on that cool November morning. “Whoever listens to Me will dwell safely, and will be secure, without fear of evil… He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty… Your life is hidden with Christ in God… God is our refuge and strength… Therefore we will not fear… I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day” (Prov 1:33, Ps 91:1, Col 3:3, Ps 46:1-2, 2 Tim 1:12) Sometimes, His promises reach beyond the moment and apply to our rememberings as well.
And still, as my mind continued to spin around these happenings, my resolute God continued to speak. Linus showed up, alone and small in the middle of that stage. We’ve all seen the special that has been airing consistently for the last 58 years. Charlie Brown has been bullied and belittled for too long and he finally cries out, “will someone tell me what Christmas is all about?!”
Unflinching, Linus steps forward with his iconic blue security blanket and offers the simple Story of Jesus being born in Bethlehem.
And then it happens. Blink, and you’ll miss it. Linus says the words the angels declared to the shepherds outside Bethlehem, “Fear not”… and as those words leave his lips, that blanket which has served as his source of security through his entire life falls to the ground.
It’s a heartbeat of a moment that shouts a bold truth to the world – when you open your heart to the boldness of the “fear not”, you can release all those false securities that so often hold you hostage.
Do you hear it? The repeated reminder, laced with all of God’s quiet strength? I can’t miss it and I certainly can’t ignore it any longer … the reminder that nothing can rob me of His promises. It was a promise for my past, my present and my future, reaching down to me as I sat there wrapped in my blanket, wrapped in all the wonder of His safety.
Do you feel it? That longing for a safe place in this chaotic world? A refuge from fear? A strong tower as the barrage of news headlines and a confused (and confusing) culture spins all around you? Do you find yourself wanting to cling to false promises of security that crumble all to quickly? Remind yourself of the promises of God that are not shaken by the memories of your past, the concerns of your present, or the fears of your future.
As this Christmas comes rushing at us, with all the moments that beckon busyness, I invite you to pause with me and Linus, and remember. We often move too fast in these modern times to let the wonder of the waiting sink in – and that is why I say it out loud here today. In the quiet of this moment, right here, I remember the long wait for God to break through and rescue me from my long battle with darkness. And as I remember this more recent past, I think of the much longer wait all of mankind had as they held their breath and longed for a Messiah. I remember the apparent silence of God as I waged my own battle, and I think of 400 years between the words from Malachi’s mouth and the cry of a Baby in Bethlehem. I remember the power of when He rescued me in the fullness of time, and I think of how powerfully He has been rescuing hearts since the beginning of time. Oh, let us not rush through these moments of remembrance!
“Wait for the LORD; Be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD” – Psalm 27:14
Maybe it’s not a memory – it may be all of your present. A long dark tunnel and all you can hope for is a glimmer of light. A diagnosis, a relationship, an impossible situation, an impulse in you that you just can’t control … In this moment, let the waiting be our sustenance. Let Advent do it’s holy work in us and may the wonder of anticipation work it’s transformation in our hearts. We all need Jesus’ arrival in so many dusty corners of our hearts and lives. As we wait, let us hold our breaths with wonder. For He is here.
Our God is a consuming fire 