(A few years ago I wrote about Advent. I was rereading that blog recently and realized I needed to be reminded of the truths again this year. So this is a repost, reminding myself – and perhaps you – that embracing the “waiting time” is a good thing.)
Typically, we don’t like to wait. Delayed gratification is less and less common. Technology and other advances have removed the “necessity” of waiting for many things. Impulse purchases are a click away online, and for a few extra dollars it can be to you by tomorrow. Communication that a generation or so ago required the days or weeks involved in writing and sending a letter is now essentially instantaneous, a beep on your phone. I’m grateful for technology that connects us to each other – especially as families and friend networks spread out to more and more places around the world. That’s a good thing. But in the midst of all these advances, waiting falls by the wayside.
We don’t tend to wait well. Waiting is a nuisance (why haven’t they texted me back yet, why is this line so long). It’s a necessary evil on the way to the end result and we strive to eliminate as much of our waiting as possible.
But … what if that wasn’t the case? What if waiting has a richness only to be found in waiting? What if we miss something by constantly figuring out ways to get “there” faster?
We’re in the liturgical season of Advent right now. There was a time when the words “liturgical season” meant nothing to me. “Advent” was a tad more familiar but only because of the Advent wreath at church, pulled out every December with a different family each week lighting it and leading the congregation in a scripted corporate response.
And then … I ended up in an Episcopal church, one full of life and love for Jesus, full of openness to the Holy Spirit, where “liturgical” became something rich instead of boring, rote repetition. Something that joined me to the saints who have gone before me and the Church worldwide, that helped me see the bigness of God in both time and space. A style of connection and fellowship and spirituality and worship that fed a part of me I hadn’t even known was hungry. That exposed me to the mystery of God in previously unrealized ways. It’s been over 20 years since I was part of that church but the years spent there were rich ones for me and they left some important marks on my spiritual life.
The Rev. Gray Temple, a profound influence in my life, was adamant that Advent was for waiting and preparation and expectation – and that the celebration needed to wait for Christmas. Over and over he would say something along the lines of it not being good or right to celebrate too soon. So during Advent we sang Advent hymns, not Christmas carols. We sang “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus” and “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel“. We acknowledged that we were weary and waiting and yearning for His arrival. The “Christmas play” was not done until after the service officially closed on the 4th Sunday of Advent. It took me a while to “get it”, to appreciate the reasons behind that.
Before you wonder if I’m a Scrooge, trying to discourage Christmas cheer and December festivities – I’m not. I love most of them. And even in my more liturgical years, I was never a legalist about it. But our pre-Christmas lives are busy ones and they start earlier and earlier each year. Christmas decorations are in stores right after Halloween. Store opening times for Black Friday crept back to 5 a.m. a few years ago and then to midnight and now to Thanksgiving Day. Obligatory gift lists seem to grow longer.
Being surrounded by so many things that push us to stay busy during this season, how do we find time to reflect on, and to prepare for, the magnitude of the celebration of Christ’s coming?
God came to dwell among us! There’s wonder and mystery in that – and we’re in danger of missing it.
How do we grasp that? What do we do with the wonder of that? How do we truly celebrate what is worth celebrating? Can we really rush, rush, rush, up until Christmas Day, and truly be ready for His coming – at least in the ways that matter most?
Hundreds of details and too many obligations can end up minimizing the celebration of His birth – almost reducing it to one more thing on our “to do” list. What do we miss when we bypass the waiting, the growing anticipation, the building excitement or when all of those things are focused on our plans (even good ones like family being together) instead of on His birth, His entry into our lives? What happens when we celebrate too soon and in ways that rob the true celebration of its deepest and fullest joy?
How do we keep celebrations from creating a “tyranny of the urgent” which is far different than true, heart-level, preparation?
Not all waiting is the same. Some waiting is joyful anticipation with a clear end date – World Racers about to return home after 11 months away, a small group of cherished friends planning a vacation, family being together at the holiday. Some waiting is more serious, imposed on us by circumstances – waiting for medical test results that can impact what our family is going to look like in the coming year. Some waiting is tied to hopes and dreams that we may not see fulfilled in our lifetime.
But Advent is about discovering the hope that is inherent in waiting. About acknowledging weariness and yearning. About learning that we are not alone as we wait, even if God seems silent. Is it possible that Advent can help us learn to wait well in other circumstances?
At this time of year, especially, I love the stories of Anna and Simeon. Much of what I learned about the richness of Advent, I learned from letting the few verses about their lives sink down deep in me. I see people who waited well. They had waited decades for their Messiah. Anna had devoted herself to worship and prayer, Simeon was full of the Holy Spirit and had been promised by God that he would live long enough to see the Messiah. Their pressing into God during their waiting time gave them spiritual eyes to see what no one else in the temple saw that day. They recognized who Jesus was – at a point when He was just a baby, looking like any other baby being presented. When other eyes did not see what they saw.
That’s what I want. I want to wait well, to anticipate well, to get more and more excited because I am waiting in the company of God for something worth celebrating, something that invites me into the mystery of God in glorious ways. I want to be still while I wait, remembering His past faithfulness and wondering what new thing He is doing now. I want to let Him know where I am scared and where I am excited.
I want to dream about the moment when the waiting is over but I don’t want to miss the gifts of the waiting time. I don’t want to miss His comfort, His companionship, and His excitement over the coming gift.
Reminders help me. So every Advent I set out Advent candles. Not the skinny ones I grew up with in church, lit on Sundays only. But big fat ones that can burn for days. They stay lit most of my waking hours at home and serve as a reminder when I walk through my house that there is something going on in the waiting time that I don’t want to miss.
And when the time came for their purification according to the Law of Moses, they [Mary and Joseph] brought him [Jesus] up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord …. Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said, “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel. …” And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived with her husband seven years from when she was a virgin, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem. (Luke 2:22, 25-32, 36-38; English Standard Version)
