Another Advent
Each year, as I wait through the season of Advent, I often pause to reflect on how things have changed from the year before. Advent is a holy time of waiting and of naming our deepest longings for ourselves and the world as we look for God to break into the world again, but some Advents haven’t felt so holy. I can remember years, especially during university and seminary when I didn’t even have a chance to reflect on the season, times when I was so busy writing papers and studying for exams that I barely knew Christmas was on the horizon. Other Advents have been times of transition. Last year, for instance, was a spiritually strange time as I was in-between church ministry positions. I felt like an Advent drifter – attending services at various places, even at my family’s church in New Jersey, but not feeling quite at home anywhere. My first Advent and Christmas in Saskatchewan in 2011 was also a difficult time. It was my first time leading these holy services and I felt very overwhelmed. I was also desperately homesick despite the warmth and love I received from my church folks. This Advent, however, has been one of profound joy – a time of feeling really settled in my soul and able to enjoy and reflect on the meaning of the season. I am grateful to feel at home here at Erindale United, and as I come close to the one year mark of serving this congregation, I’m glad to feel like we are really worshipping through this season as a community. Personally, I am also celebrating my first Christmas as a married person, and have been thankful for the on-going love and support of a tremendous life partner. Perhaps, though, my sense of personal joy and contentment has allowed me to be more awake to the pain and suffering in the world this Advent season. The scriptures that call on God to tear open the heavens and come down, or John the Baptist calling out for people to transform their lives have never felt more relevant to our time. The world seems so divided and so full of injustice. Whether it’s ongoing war in Syria, the #metoo movement, which has highlighted systemic sexual assault in North America, or natural disasters like hurricanes and wild fires, it feels like a time when we might sing “O come, O come, Emmanuel” a bit more urgently. Whereas in other years I might have been distracted by personal goings-on, this year I have felt a tremendous tension between my own personal joy and what is going on in the world. The commercial version of Christmas would tell us that we should never feel down this time of year. After all, the Christmas movies and ads try to sell us miracles and cheer. But really, for those of us who seek to follow Jesus, we are called to hold these two opposing ideas together – it is a time for rejoicing, a time for praising the God with whom nothing will be impossible, but it is also a time to be aware of why God had to come down to us in the first place, a time to sit with the brokenness and suffering of the world. I wonder, as I write, what kind of Advent this has been for you. I hope whether you are rejoicing or lamenting or both that you are aware of the Holy Spirit, and are seeing signs of God’s longing to be with humanity. For as Wendell Berry writes, “It gets darker, and darker, and darker, and then Jesus is born.” And this is truly the Good News – whether we are ready or not, whether we are awake or not, Jesus will be born for us.
Each year, as I wait through the season of Advent, I often pause to reflect on how things have changed from the year before. Advent is a holy time of waiting and of naming our deepest longings for ourselves and the world as we look for God to break into the world again, but some Advents haven’t felt so holy.
I can remember years, especially during university and seminary when I didn’t even have a chance to reflect on the season, times when I was so busy writing papers and studying for exams that I barely knew Christmas was on the horizon. Other Advents have been times of transition. Last year, for instance, was a spiritually strange time as I was in-between church ministry positions. I felt like an Advent drifter – attending services at various places, even at my family’s church in New Jersey, but not feeling quite at home anywhere. My first Advent and Christmas in Saskatchewan in 2011 was also a difficult time. It was my first time leading these holy services and I felt very overwhelmed. I was also desperately homesick despite the warmth and love I received from my church folks.
This Advent, however, has been one of profound joy – a time of feeling really settled in my soul and able to enjoy and reflect on the meaning of the season. I am grateful to feel at home here at Erindale United, and as I come close to the one year mark of serving this congregation, I’m glad to feel like we are really worshipping through this season as a community. Personally, I am also celebrating my first Christmas as a married person, and have been thankful for the on-going love and support of a tremendous life partner.
Perhaps, though, my sense of personal joy and contentment has allowed me to be more awake to the pain and suffering in the world this Advent season. The scriptures that call on God to tear open the heavens and come down, or John the Baptist calling out for people to transform their lives have never felt more relevant to our time. The world seems so divided and so full of injustice. Whether it’s ongoing war in Syria, the #metoo movement, which has highlighted systemic sexual assault in North America, or natural disasters like hurricanes and wild fires, it feels like a time when we might sing “O come, O come, Emmanuel” a bit more urgently. Whereas in other years I might have been distracted by personal goings-on, this year I have felt a tremendous tension between my own personal joy and what is going on in the world.
The commercial version of Christmas would tell us that we should never feel down this time of year. After all, the Christmas movies and ads try to sell us miracles and cheer. But really, for those of us who seek to follow Jesus, we are called to hold these two opposing ideas together – it is a time for rejoicing, a time for praising the God with whom nothing will be impossible, but it is also a time to be aware of why God had to come down to us in the first place, a time to sit with the brokenness and suffering of the world.
I wonder, as I write, what kind of Advent this has been for you. I hope whether you are rejoicing or lamenting or both that you are aware of the Holy Spirit, and are seeing signs of God’s longing to be with humanity. For as Wendell Berry writes, “It gets darker, and darker, and darker, and then Jesus is born.” And this is truly the Good News – whether we are ready or not, whether we are awake or not, Jesus will be born for us.






