Matthew 24:36-44
When
we come to the season of Advent we begin again. We begin the cycle of our
worship year, and we begin with waiting.
Waiting
accompanies beginnings in a natural way. We wait for the beginning of a new
life through nine months of pregnancy. We wait for the beginning of a new
school year. We wait for vacations, for promotions, for the release of a
long-awaited movie or a new book from a favorite author. We wait for a response
to our email. We wait for someone to return our phone call. We are always
waiting.
We
wait for doctor appointments and dentist appointments. We wait for the
furniture we ordered to be delivered. We wait.
We
wait for spring and then for summer. We wait for someone to notice us and offer
us what we need. We just wait.
We
wait for the interminable meeting to be over. We wait for the coffee to brew.
We wait for five o’clock to come, for Friday to come. We wait for sleep to
come. We wait.
We
wait for that person to forgive us, finally. We wait; we are always waiting.
The
early followers of Jesus were in a state of waiting for him to return and bring
an end to the world as they knew it, and we know it. They waited with the kind
of anxiety you and I are familiar with, the anxiety that accompanies our
waiting for something important to happen – waiting for the kids to arrive;
they are late and we don’t know what is keeping them. Waiting for the lab test
results that will tell us: are we dying or not?
They
were waiting for the Savior to return – our Savior, Jesus Christ. Waiting for
the fullness of time, for the end of suffering and tears, for the lion and the
lamb to lie down together, for peace on earth. That’s all.
And
it wasn’t coming quickly enough. Jesus was late. He should have been here by
now, they said to one another. We have been watching and waiting, like he told
us to do. We have said our goodbyes to this world and we are ready for the next
one.
They
were ready, because they knew just how broken the world was. They walked down
roads lined with crosses, the bodies of their friends and loved ones on
display. They tried not to look.
They
knew how broken everything was, just as we do. We read headlines that say, “7
Mass Shootings in the Last 7 Days.” War in Ukraine rages on. White supremacists
and neo-Nazis have dinner together to plan their next moves.
We
often try not to look.
So
we wait for our Savior. We are peering out the window waiting for his car to pull
into the driveway. We imagine his arrival. Jesus, finally; you’re here. We were
so worried about you. Because we’ve been waiting.
There
is a poem called “The Whole Earth’s a Waiting Room,” by Joseph T. Nolan,
The
whole earth’s a waiting room!
“The Savior will see you now”
is what we expect to hear at the end.
Maybe we should raise our expectations.
The Savior might see us now
if we know how to find him.
What
if we did raise our expectations? That is, if we stopped waiting for Jesus to
helicopter in and clean things up in one great sweep? And we began looking for
the signs of him here and now?
C.S.
Lewis wrote the wonderful stories about the land of Narnia, where the lion
named Aslan is at the center of it all. Most of the time, though, Aslan is
neither seen nor heard. But occasionally someone will say to another, “Aslan is
on the move.”
“Aslan
is on the move,” they will say to one another in a hushed and reverent tone.
Something wonderful is coming because Aslan is on the move. When Aslan, the
creator and redeemer of the land of Narnia, is on the move, marvelous things
happen.
What
if what we are waiting for is already here? As the poem says:
Maybe
we should raise our expectations.
The Savior might see us now
if we know how to find him.
Could it be that Jesus, too, is waiting
for us to know he is around?
It
is true, isn’t it? He left something of himself here, didn’t he? In all the
ways he taught us – in his words and his actions – didn’t he leave something of
himself? In the stories we tell of the times he fed the multitudes, seemingly
out of nothing there was plenty! We tell the stories again and again and we
say, just as he said: Go and do likewise. Didn’t Jesus leave something of
himself in each one of us?
Didn’t
he leave something of himself in the divine Spirit that permeates everything on
earth? That kernel of goodness that is in everything God created – which is to
say, everything – don’t we see something of our Savior in it?
We
fill our time with waiting, always waiting. But didn’t Jesus say, “Stay awake;
pay attention; keep watch.” Didn’t Paul say, “Now is the moment.” Can we see
that our waiting must be watching for the sacred that is here right now; that
we are living in sacred time?
It’s
a matter of perspective. Stop. Pay attention and see the sacred that is around
you and in you.
Stop
your busyness, your stewing about all the things that didn’t go perfectly and
all the people who didn’t do what they were supposed to do. Stop trying to make
perfection. Look for the things of God because they are already perfect.
Feed
someone. Hug someone. Smile at someone. Assume the best of someone, just as you
would want them to do for you.
Listen
to someone. Tell them you believe in them. Bless them. And, yes, you need to do
it for yourself sometimes just as much as you need to do it for others.
Open
your eyes to sacred time. Practice seeing that kernel of goodness that is in
everything and everyone. And if you can’t see it in them, then pray for them.
Pray for the goodness of their creator to shine through.
And
when you are doing these things, you are living in sacred time.
Photo by Andraz Lazic on Unsplash
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