Some categories of waiting are brimming with excitement. We know something is coming, we know God is moving, we know our story is about to change, we know there is something holy and wonderful just beyond our reach. We wait with great expectation, like the wide-eyed, can't-sleep, almost-there excitement of Christmas Eve.
But I am also reminded that as we engage the practice of waiting this
Advent, some waiting is excruciating. Some of us are waiting for a dark
night of the soul to finally end, for a small measure of relief from
agony, for a wilderness season to give way to the Promised Land. We are
waiting for mended relationships, prodigal children, deferred hope, or
elusive peace. We are waiting for Jesus to show up and return joy to the
world.
Don't forget that as you are waiting for Jesus, you are also waiting with Jesus. We never suffer alone. He came. And Advent reminds us to prepare our hearts, even in the wait. After all, these few days we have on earth are the only ones we'll ever get to practice faith...one day, faith will be obsolete because we will know and see in full.
So we work on waiting well. We offer our faith, however shaky, however thin, however tinged with sorrow. We practice kindness and goodness, patience and generosity - some of the hardest virtues to hang onto when the wait takes our breath away. We walk with Jesus in the pain; we don't just wait for His appearance at the end of it. We tell Him, "Even now, I love you. Even now, I believe in you. Even now, I trust you." We humbly ask God to reveal whatever He would have us hand over: pride, self-sufficiency, fury, fear. Nothing can purify our hearts like a wait endured with faithfulness.
When I am in a painful wait, when it seems endless and my heart is worn out, I ask myself: "What do I want it said of me one year from now? What do I want to look back on and be proud of?" Did I burn everything to the ground? I'll regret it. Did I ruin relationships or blame the wrong people? I'll be sorry. Did I release my faith at the very moment I needed it the most? What a loss that would be. May I bless the name of Jesus not just in abundance but in want.
The manger is coming, and a weary world will indeed rejoice. Let us wait with expectation and courage, with hearts prepared in the dark of night for the Light of the World. He is coming for you. Don't forget or doubt it. He is coming.
(from a current article)
Don't forget that as you are waiting for Jesus, you are also waiting with Jesus. We never suffer alone. He came. And Advent reminds us to prepare our hearts, even in the wait. After all, these few days we have on earth are the only ones we'll ever get to practice faith...one day, faith will be obsolete because we will know and see in full.
So we work on waiting well. We offer our faith, however shaky, however thin, however tinged with sorrow. We practice kindness and goodness, patience and generosity - some of the hardest virtues to hang onto when the wait takes our breath away. We walk with Jesus in the pain; we don't just wait for His appearance at the end of it. We tell Him, "Even now, I love you. Even now, I believe in you. Even now, I trust you." We humbly ask God to reveal whatever He would have us hand over: pride, self-sufficiency, fury, fear. Nothing can purify our hearts like a wait endured with faithfulness.
When I am in a painful wait, when it seems endless and my heart is worn out, I ask myself: "What do I want it said of me one year from now? What do I want to look back on and be proud of?" Did I burn everything to the ground? I'll regret it. Did I ruin relationships or blame the wrong people? I'll be sorry. Did I release my faith at the very moment I needed it the most? What a loss that would be. May I bless the name of Jesus not just in abundance but in want.
The manger is coming, and a weary world will indeed rejoice. Let us wait with expectation and courage, with hearts prepared in the dark of night for the Light of the World. He is coming for you. Don't forget or doubt it. He is coming.
(from a current article)
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