A Devotion for the Waiting
This Sunday, December 2nd marks the beginning of the season of Advent. Advent (from the Latin adventus meaning “coming”) is a liturgical season observed in many Christian churches as a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the birth of Jesus at Christmas.
Waiting is not something we are very good at. In fact, studies show that we’re becoming increasingly worse at waiting. We sit down to wait for a doctor’s appointment or for a coffee order, and what do we do? Out come our phones, down go our heads, and our patience wanes.
While we can bemoan this fact, we should be somewhat relieved to know that we come by this honestly. Patience has long been a struggle for humans throughout history. And it follows that when we’re looking forward to something wonderful, or the fulfillment of dreams or the righting of wrongs, waiting becomes even more difficult.
A few nights ago, I was reading a bedtime favorite with my kids entitled “Waiting is Not Easy” by Mo Willems. It follows the friendship of an elephant (Gerald) and a pig (Piggie), in which Piggie, the eternal optimist, has a surprise for melancholy Gerald. As Gerald’s patience wanes with the daylight, Piggie encourages him to wait it out:
“It will be worth it!” he says, while impatient Gerald continues to sweat.
Finally, after Gerald’s many groans and complaints, Piggie reveals the surprise: a beautiful night sky, strewn with stars. A beauty that could not happen without a good amount of waiting.
But one that was so worth the wait.
It is understandable that we want to rush toward Christmas, to hurry toward the joy and celebration and fulfillment that Christmas brings.
But in the waiting, in the season of preparing, and of naming that which we long for, there are gifts that can only be revealed in the waiting.
We wait, as the people of Israel did, for the coming Savior, the one who would be born to fulfill the prophecies, to become the Prince of Peace, the one whom darkness could not overcome.
And as we await the celebration of Jesus’ birth, we also acknowledge that we are waiting here still for every year to be wiped away. We wait for the Christ child, and we wait with expectation for the day when all things will indeed be made new.
The work of recovery is the work of waiting – in anticipation, in hope and in expectation. We long, with our clients and communities, for restoration. We long to celebrate the day when things will be made new, and joy will overflow.
But as we find ourselves in the waiting, in recovery and in this Advent season, let us be people whose waiting is tuned to the inbreaking of hope and light all around us.
My favorite Advent hymn is “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus.” Even the title alone creates a sort of leap in my heart. Jesus, who we have long-expected and hoped for! Come!
May we find comfort and hope in the first few lines of the first verse which remind us that we are not alone, not in our waiting, and not in our hopes:
Waiting is not something we are very good at. In fact, studies show that we’re becoming increasingly worse at waiting. We sit down to wait for a doctor’s appointment or for a coffee order, and what do we do? Out come our phones, down go our heads, and our patience wanes.
While we can bemoan this fact, we should be somewhat relieved to know that we come by this honestly. Patience has long been a struggle for humans throughout history. And it follows that when we’re looking forward to something wonderful, or the fulfillment of dreams or the righting of wrongs, waiting becomes even more difficult.
A few nights ago, I was reading a bedtime favorite with my kids entitled “Waiting is Not Easy” by Mo Willems. It follows the friendship of an elephant (Gerald) and a pig (Piggie), in which Piggie, the eternal optimist, has a surprise for melancholy Gerald. As Gerald’s patience wanes with the daylight, Piggie encourages him to wait it out:
“It will be worth it!” he says, while impatient Gerald continues to sweat.
Finally, after Gerald’s many groans and complaints, Piggie reveals the surprise: a beautiful night sky, strewn with stars. A beauty that could not happen without a good amount of waiting.
But one that was so worth the wait.
It is understandable that we want to rush toward Christmas, to hurry toward the joy and celebration and fulfillment that Christmas brings.
But in the waiting, in the season of preparing, and of naming that which we long for, there are gifts that can only be revealed in the waiting.
We wait, as the people of Israel did, for the coming Savior, the one who would be born to fulfill the prophecies, to become the Prince of Peace, the one whom darkness could not overcome.
And as we await the celebration of Jesus’ birth, we also acknowledge that we are waiting here still for every year to be wiped away. We wait for the Christ child, and we wait with expectation for the day when all things will indeed be made new.
The work of recovery is the work of waiting – in anticipation, in hope and in expectation. We long, with our clients and communities, for restoration. We long to celebrate the day when things will be made new, and joy will overflow.
But as we find ourselves in the waiting, in recovery and in this Advent season, let us be people whose waiting is tuned to the inbreaking of hope and light all around us.
My favorite Advent hymn is “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus.” Even the title alone creates a sort of leap in my heart. Jesus, who we have long-expected and hoped for! Come!
May we find comfort and hope in the first few lines of the first verse which remind us that we are not alone, not in our waiting, and not in our hopes:
"Come, thou long expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.”
What are you waiting and longing for this Advent season?
In Advent hope,
Chaplain Amy
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.”
What are you waiting and longing for this Advent season?
In Advent hope,
Chaplain Amy
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