Advent

Christ was born in the first century, yet He belongs to all centuries. He was born a Jew, yet He belongs to all races. He was born in Bethlehem, yet He belongs to all countries.” – George Washington Truett

William Willimon United Methodist Bishop tells a story of some students he had taken on a mission trip to Haiti during their summer break. During one of the final evenings of the trip, the students sat around a camp fire and shared their favourite passages of scripture with one another: John 10:10, “I come that you shall have life in the full” was one; Romans 8:28, “Nothing can separates us from the love of God…” was another. Then a Haitian woman, who had traveled with the group as a translator piped up. She wasn’t sure of the reference for her favourite bible passage, but she knew it was towards the end of Mark’s Gospel, and it was about the sun going black, and the stars falling from the sky, and Jesus saying, “Woe to pregnant women and nursing mothers”. The students stared at the woman in stunned silence, until one of them had the courage to ask why that passage was her favourite. The woman answered with disarming simplicity: “Because this world is broken, and it needs to come to an end”.

The group later learnt more of this woman’s story. She had a tragic history of pregnancies ending in miscarriages, and the causes were preventable, but for the lack of medical care in Haiti. She didn’t just believe the world was broken at some theoretical level, she knew it in the core of her being.

Advent is a time for naming what is broken about our world, and holding space in order that we might long for a new one. If Lent is about confession (owning our part in what is broken), then Advent is about lament, which doesn’t seek to attribute blame, but settles for an honest naming of reality before God – the only one who can make things right.

There is a tendency to treat Advent like a warm-up band to the headline act. And of course, to an extent, it is that. However, Advent also has a distinct gift of its own – a gift that, if not received, will mean that the great coming of Christ in Christmas is in danger of being missed or misappropriated.

Lord God,

we praise you for sending light into this world.

We confess that we live as though the light had never defeated darkness.

We confess that we ignore the Saviour you sent to be among us and to live in us.

We’ve kept the birth of your Son confined to the Christmas season

and do not yearn for his coming each moment in our waiting hearts.

Forgive us for not opening our eyes to Jesus.

Prepare us for His return.

Help us rejoice in the light,

so that your grace can illuminate

the darkened places of our hearts.  Amen.