December is upon us (as is Advent) and I have to write something for the Spire. Nothing immediate came to mind. The morning has already started in a rush and I’m behind. Ugh!
I back out of the parsonage driveway. I notice my elderly neighbor as she peers out of her bay window and listens for the low grumble of the mail carrier’s car. She’s waiting.
At the bottom of Oakmont Rd, I make a right and soon I see a man pacing at the bus stop, clutching his overcoat in protest of the crisp morning air. Like a clock pendulum, his attention swings from his watch to the horizon. He’s waiting…actively.
Further in the distance, a jogger with her hair in a pony tail and earmuffs on her head runs in place at the intersection of Washington and National Rd. Her eyes are fixed on the crossing signal. She’s waiting…actively. (It’s amazing what you can behold on a short drive to work when you take the time to observe.)
As these words are penned, my sister-in-law dotes over the two distinct dots in her ultrasound picture. Both represent two distinct heartbeats. One hand clutches the picture while the other pats her abdomen. She’s waiting…actively.
Something is coming. Someone is coming. For those who wait, you can see it in their faces; you can sense it in their movements: The prophet Isaiah notes, “…those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isa. 40:31)
Those who wait, shall [not should, could or might]…they shall renew; they shall mount up; they shall run…
Waiting and renewing. Waiting and mounting up. Waiting and running. Doesn’t seem passive at all, does it? Waiting expectantly. Working vigilantly. They seem to run in tandem, don’t they? Perhaps that’s Advent and with Advent comes an exclamation: “Look! The package is in route; the pick-up is coming; the light is about to change; there is a birth to behold.”
How do I know? The movement of the waiting and the watchful give it away. Ah! There it is. This is Advent…and that is us. We can’t afford to be any less.
Waiting,
Pastor Jake