A reflection for the first Sunday of Advent.
I have said it before, and it continues to hold true in my own experience, that more often than not it seems that the sermon that I preach is every bit as much a word from God that speaks into my own life as it is for the life of the congregation.
The process of sitting with Scripture and prayerfully considering how it wants to speak into the life of the church is a sacred one that I experience as holy space and as one of the parts of my vocation that I most look forward to because it's inevitably a space of encounter with God. And although I work very hard to separate my own needs from the needs of the congregation, still God seems to meet me in this place even as I hope that the sermon will also create a space that invites the congregation into a similar place of encounter.
Today is the first Sunday of Advent, and I had the opportunity to speak this morning at Bethel Place, the seniors' apartment complex adjacent to the church where I work. And the Gospel text for the first Sunday of Advent is a challenging one (Matthew 24:36-44), featuring Jesus speaking about the end of days that will come without warning, like the Great Flood or like a thief in the night.
It's not exactly the kind of warm fuzzy that you'd hope for as we enter into this season of expectation and anticipation, as we begin counting down the days until we can celebrate the birth of Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us.
But Advent is not only one extended baby shower. It also anticipates the time when Jesus will come again and all things will be restored to their intended goodness, when we will see justice fulfilled and experience true peace on earth.
And I don't know why it had never occurred to me before, because it seems obvious to me now, but as I was studying this week it struck me that Advent is also a season in which we remember that Jesus' coming continues even now--that the Son of Man continues to come at the times and in the places when we least expect it.
Maybe that explains why I've been feeling an undeniable sense of longing as I started listening to some of my favourite Christmas albums this afternoon for the first time this season.
There is just something about the promise of God-with-us, Emmanuel, that awakens a deep longing within me. I've been doing the best I can this fall, but it's not always been easy, and I've gotten stuck in a pattern of getting done what needs to be done without ever truly making space to nourish my own soul. It's easy to do, and I suspect that I'm not the only one who gets caught in this pattern.
And the story of a God who enters into the thick of it; who humbles themself to the messy process of human birth; who makes themself vulnerable as a baby boy dependent upon a young, first-time mother for his every need; who enters into the world in the least likely of places, in the glorious monotony of the everyday, is truly good news to me.
Because God has come, and God is still coming, and God will come again.
This is the good news of the Christian faith. It's good news that feeds my thirsty soul today--God is still coming. God is still in the habit of showing up in the least likely places. There has never, ever been a point at which God has abandoned the world that they created, that they love--and they won't start now.
It's good news that I can hold to tightly in the days ahead, good news that in this season invites me to simply be still and trust that God is still among us, good news that invites me to let go and breathe every once in a while, good news that for this moment I can rest from my doing and just be, good news that I belong to a story that is far bigger than me.
God has come. God is still coming. God will come again.
Thanks be to God!
