Advent I - Waiting

I've decided that during this Advent, I'm going to write to myself, the things that I need to hear in Advent.  In essence, I'll be preaching to myself.  I don't do that very often.  Usually, I try to picture my audience and the context in which they survive; and then I imagine the intersection of the biblical story and where the echoes of it make waves in reality.  That's just a fancy way of wondering how the Word of God comes alive today.

So, here I am in the struggle between writing to myself and recognizing that other people read this, which means I'm back at the intersection of individual context and biblical narrative.  It's the first week of Advent - the preparation for the coming of Christ and I've had a week's worth of Christmas music already playing.  We put up the Christmas tree last weekend while Elsa was still with us (she has since flown to Germany, which I'll get back to in a little bit); we sorted through all the memories which look a lot like ornaments but they turn into stories every year, and in the retelling of the ornaments, we get lost in the adventure of Advent.

The first week is always the most difficult, I think.  And that is not only from my saturation in American culture when the first week is also the Sunday after Thanksgiving Day.  After a gluttonous meal masticated at various speeds of consumption depending on which football game is playing at the time (equally gluttonous, if I'm honest with myself), we fade into opposite poles of wondering whether we should be preparing our shopping lists for the upcoming financial strain approaching, or taking a nap.

The Sunday comes quickly after a day that's supposed to be marked for giving thanks for things that have already arrived, but Advent contrives to make us expectant for that which is yet to come.  Or, in the Christian sense, come again.

It's a strange thing that we celebrate Christmas in this way every year.  We already know that the baby has been born; we know of this baby's growth into adulthood, his inconspicuous death and miraculous resurrection and his considerable influence on the middle east which radiated into the outer spokes of the known world.  We don't hope for something that has already happened.

Yet, here we are, every year, waiting for him to reappear.  It's like Jesus flew off on a plane to the other side of the solar system and we're waiting in the airport for his step through the customs gate, baggage in hand, prepared for hugs from family and friends.  We hold signs like, "Welcome back, Savior!"  Or, "We missed you, Jesus!"  Maybe, "It's about time, God." They are all true feelings in one way or the other, but sometimes I think the day of Christmas actually distracts from the greater picture.  We are so inured to Advent, and the skipping past it to the birthday party, that sometimes I actually think Christians believe that Jesus is going to come back as a baby.  

It's weird when we celebrate Christmas in this way.  It's as if I'm a first time parent, pacing back and forth chewing fingernails and drinking coffee, when my child is already sixteen years old.  That's ridiculous.  None of my daughters are going to be re-birthed every year (which Christine thanks God for every year), so why do we treat Christmas that way? 

That's the beauty of Advent.  It's the genius of waiting.

Elsa just left yesterday and already we are expectantly awaiting her return and subsequent description of all the details of her journey.  Due to twenty-first century technology, we can actually follow the flight of her plane while it coasts over exotic places like India and Dubai.  We can connect with her via applications on my phone and yet the whole time we look very much forward to her physical presence in this place, with us.  At the same time, it does us no good to simply watch the skies for the next six weeks waiting expectantly for her.  That would be silly, right?  In order to endure the time between sightings, we do that which God has called us to do - we live.

Our gospel lesson today, from Luke 21:25-30  There will be signs in the sun, moon and stars.  On the earth, nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea.  People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming in the world, for the heavenly bodies will be shaken.  At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory.  When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.

Surely, in recent weeks, there is anguish and perplexity in the world.  Some are fainting from terror, and a little section in my heart has that same fear that we should have just kept Elsa close to us, to keep her safe.

But we're meant to live, to keep our feet on the ground (unless we are flying in airplanes), not to have our heads in the stars amidst the signs of the sun, moon and stars.  Yes, we can take a peek at what's happening above us, theologically speaking - way beyond our pay grade.  And, when God decides that the time is right and ripe, Jesus will find a way to appear in the clouds. 

Not the iCloud, by the way.  I'm positive that Jesus will not arrive via the SaviorApp on my phone.  And when the scriptures say, "Stand up and lift your heads," I'm kind of thinking that we're not supposed to be looking down at our phones when that happens.  Redemption is a little bigger than the next funny youtube video.

So we wait.  We prepare for the coming of Christ, not in the form of a baby, or at least I don't think the Son of Man is going to reappear as a screaming infant freshly de-umbilicaled from God.  He will come with power and glory and majesty of the likes we have never seen.  We wait at the gate neither holding signs or waiting for arrival signs but talking to our neighbors who stand shoulder to shoulder with us waiting for the doors to open.  We hear their stories of hope and joy about who is to issue forth from customs.

Imagine if the customs security asked Jesus if he had to declare anything and he responded, (from Mark 1:15 after his baptism) "The time has come.  The kingdom of God has come near.  Repent and believe the good news!"

Imagine the sputtering of the guard as he proclaims, "That's not what I meant.  You know, any plants, fruits or nuts."  Jesus shakes his head. 

"Any dangerous items?" The guard finishes his query.

Jesus smirks.  "You've got no idea."

I can't wait to see that.