Peter writes in 2 Peter 3, “This is now my second letter that I am writing to you...”
And so, mimicking the apostle: “This is now my twenty-second letter that I am writing to you...” That in itself reminds us of how long it has been since this pandemic began to impact our lives.
I don’t know about you, but memories pre-pandemic seem to be from a different life. I ran a 10k race just before the world changed and that feels now so long ago that it hardly seems real. And as we all know 2020 has not just been defined by disease. It has been characterized by racial and political conflict and tensions that threaten to pull families, churches, and other communities apart.
And now it will soon be Advent: that season in the Christian calendar which trains the Christian heart to say, “Come, Lord Jesus.” In a sense, 2020 has been one long season of Advent.
Jesus’ birth, we know, was in fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah which says that a “people who walked in darkness have seen a great light (Isaiah 9:2).” HIs birth, and life and death and resurrection, brought light into a dark world desperate for hope and in need of redemption. The four Sundays leading up to the celebration of our Savior’s birth, Advent, are Sundays meant to remind us of that darkness, of the broken and sinful world into which Jesus was born and which he came to redeem.
Of course, 2020 has worked overtime to remind us that the darkness remains. Jesus lived, died, rose again, and ascended, but his work of redemption will not be complete until he returns. Advent trains us to wait for that day.
In this respect, then, Advent is not the season to shop and sing carols and wait for Christmas. Rather, it is the season to intentionally take note of the darkness, that which is around us and that which is in our own hearts. We are to do so with the knowledge of what he has done, and an awareness of his promise. But to rush to the cure without due consideration of the disease cheapens our appreciation of that cure.
A traditional acknowledgement of Advent then involves putting off the celebration, putting off the joy, putting off the feasting, and staring wide eyed into the darkness. In so doing, our longing for His coming grows. Bypass this and his coming seems less necessary. To lament, to fast, and to reflect as we ought is to make the plea, “Come, Lord Jesus,” all that more urgent. And it makes the celebration of Christmas itself not only a looking back, but a joyful celebration of the reality yet to come. The work begun in the manger will be in time complete.
This year has been so, so long, and so distressing and dark, that we want to rush to the consummation. We want Christmas music in July. We want trees in October and holly in November. Advent disciplines us to wait for these things. It invites us to groan, but to groan with the certainty that Jesus is coming and will, in his time, make all things beautiful.
Come, Lord Jesus. Randy
P.S. Speaking of Advent, I would be remiss to not thank you all for your amazing generosity in sponsoring the Advent kits that Elizabeth has prepared and offered to our community. Your financial and prayerful support has been essential. Pray now that hearts will be changed and that children—and parents—throughout this community will be encouraged to breathe out the words, “Come, Lord Jesus.”
