Advent is
the time in the church year when we wait. For four long weeks, we wait. Oh, the
stores might be playing “Joy to the World,” but we’re waiting, we Christians.
And our waiting begs the question, “What are you waiting for?” Now, that
question can be taken two ways. It might be a question asked of someone who
isn’t taking action that he might take. If a young man who is attracted to a
young lady, for example, but he hasn’t asked her out, his friend might ask him
– probably somewhat impatiently – “What are you waiting for?” Go ahead! Take control
of this situation! Ask her out! But there’s another way to ask that same
question: “What are you waiting for?” If we ask it of a ragged woman who is
standing by a bus stop holding a tattered suitcase and an old sleeping bag, we
mean it another way. “What are you waiting for?” Are you waiting for the bus? A
taxi? A ride from a friend? Or are you waiting for someone to offer you bus
fare because you don’t have any money? And when we ask the question this way,
we assume that the one who is waiting has no control of the situation
whatsoever. Otherwise they wouldn’t be waiting!
Advent is
this second kind of waiting. What are we waiting for? Why, we’re waiting for God
to show up; and we have no idea when that is going to be, we just know that one
of these days, it’s going to happen; and we want to be around when it does! We’re
waiting because we’ve done all that we can, but our world is hurting and our
lives are incomplete, and we have this deep yearning way down inside that we
can’t explain and we certainly can’t fill. What are you waiting for? What is your deepest yearning that will be
satisfied when God finally arrives? The details of that answer are different
for each one of us; but I’ll bet that if we ask a few people that question,
we’ll recognize ourselves somewhere in their answers. Let’s meet them.
Teresa is
over there, sitting on the curb. She’s wearing a pair of ragged blue jeans and
a green tee shirt that’s at least two sizes too big for her. Teresa ran away
from home when she was 13, because she couldn’t stand the woman that her father
married after her mother’s death. She left with only the clothes on her back
and the fuzzy brown teddy bear that she’d had since she was 3 years old. After
a year of sleeping on the street, this prodigal daughter decided that it was
time to go home; but when she called her home phone number, the phone had been
disconnected. She’s 15 now and has no idea how to locate her father. Teresa is
making out OK. She sleeps in shelters and eats in food kitchens; and all those
people are nice to her, but more than anything else, she wants a family, relationships
with people who love her. Don’t we all want that?
Over there,
on the other side is Keeshon. Right now he’s shooting hoops with a couple of
his friends on a vacant lot surrounded by the shells of boarded-up buildings.
Keeshon is 16 and lives in the projects of the inner city. His dad left when
Keeshon’s little sister was only 2, and hasn’t showed his face since. His
mother works a couple of low-wage jobs to support the family. Keeshon is
looking for a meaning to his life. He’s not a bad student – he generally gets B- and C+ in school – but he knows that’s not good enough to get him into
college. His mother loves and supports him, but she dropped out of high school
herself. Keeshon doesn’t want to deal drugs or go on welfare, but he knows his
options are limited. He believes that he will never get out of the projects.
“Is this all there is?” he asks. Keeshon is yearning for a life of meaning! Can
we argue with him?
Way over
there, so far away that you can hardly see him, is Jamal. Right now he’s
standing in line in the middle of a tangle of makeshift tents waiting to get a
gallon of water. Jamal is in a refugee camp in Eastern Europe with his wife and
young son. They used to live in Syria, but when he heard that ISIS was just a
few miles away, they fled with nothing but the clothes on their backs. They are
Christian, you see, and they knew that the thugs of ISIS would murder any
Christians that they found. Jamal just wants a place to live in peace. He has
heard rumors of resettlement, and that would be fine with him; but what he
really wants is to go back home. Home: a place where Jamal can raise his son in
security and peace. Is that too much to ask?
Finally,
right over here is Emily, the older woman sitting in a wheelchair. Emily lives
in an assisted living facility, and she is quite comfortable. Her children
visit her frequently and make sure that she is well taken care of. Her life has
been good, and she has been able to do many of the things that she values; but
she’s tired. Emily’s husband died… oh, it must be over 10 years ago, now; and all
her close friends have died, too. Even though Emily has made new friends in
assisted living, she yearns for the people she used to know. Emily is waiting
to be reunited with her late husband and with the friends who have all gone
before her into glory. Emily is yearning for the joy of eternal life. Maybe we
all are.
Did you
recognize yourself in any of these folks and in what they yearn for? A family…
a meaning to our life… security… peace… eternal joy. Aren’t these the things
that we all want, in the end? And no one can buy them at Wal-Mart and stuff
them into a stocking for us to pull out on Christmas morning. God’s grace alone
can give them to us. That’s why the psalmist wrote, “Restore us, O Lord God
almighty!” (Psalm 80) and why we sing, “O come, O come, Emmanuel!” We’re
yearning for what God alone can give us. So we will wait, this Advent season,
and the days will tick by until Christmas. As we wait, I invite you to ask
yourself, “What am I waiting for?”
No comments:
Post a Comment