Waiting

Advent is about waiting: for Christ to be born, to return, to be made known in all the world. For God's promises to be fulfilled, for his kingdom to come and will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. For him to make haste to help us.

Waiting can be a painful time, because we get anxious. Are we doing things right? Are we making the right plans and preparations? Are our expectations correct: where is the line between bold faith and misunderstanding, which will set us up for disappointment? To what extent can we discern what will come from God? Some end up doubting God; others doubt themselves.

In April I wrote a poem for the poetry contest at COA that touches on the opacity of waiting:

Why

do you take so long?
Did Isaac
get cold

on that altar,
ants exploring
his palms,

Abraham
everlong crashing
through brambles?

From our perspective, we know the end of the story. What Abraham sees tangled in the thicket is a ram, sent by God as a sacrifice to replace Isaac. But for Isaac, those minutes of unknowing must have gone so slowly.

While God sometimes chooses to tell us his plans in advance, sometimes he does not. We can feel like Isaac, waiting for God to show up and change our situation, or at least show us how what we're going through is useful.

We know more than Isaac, though: we know that Christ the sacrifice has already come. As the firstfruits of the new creation, he has paved the way through whatever God's will is for us, and sanctified it through his holy life on earth. We share in that life; we are hid with Christ. He is our constant companion, our advocate, and our hope. And we know that all things work together for good for those who love Christ. Waiting presents us with new opportunities for growth as well as time to rest and offer up the present.

Waiting with joy also develops patience. Recently we read Romans 5:3-6a at COA in the Message translation, and it struck me more deeply than it had in the past.

We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary – we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit! Christ arrives right on time to make this happen.

Christ arrives right on time to make the best thing happen. Like John the Baptist in Elizabeth's womb, like Anna in the temple, and like the wise maidens who kept enough oil in their lamps for the arrival of the bridegroom - let's stay alert in love to recognize him.