it is so high that I cannot attain it. (Psalm 139: 1-2, 6)
It is said that Advent is a season of wonder. What is it that fills me with awe? Today (truth be told), I have one foot in the exuberant joy that is just around the corner. I struggle to avoid “skipping ahead” to lose myself in the beloved story. But still, I know that it isn’t just contemplating God coming to earth that fills me with awe. I drag myself back from anticipating the Incarnation to ponder the reality of God being fully present in me, not just on earth. Now, that truly is too wonderful.
The walk to pick up a grandchild from school takes only ten quick adult minutes. But if I am accompanied by his younger brother the walk takes thirty minutes, because little Luke finds wonders all along the sidewalk. We investigate ant trails, bees gathering pollen in weeds, pecans spilled from overhead branches, rocks that surely contain fossils. My efficient adult walk completes a task. My languid little boy walk nourishes our relationship and opens my senses to God’s creation alive in the suburbs.
My Advent can pass quickly as I check off tasks and hurry through the whirlwind of activities to arrive at Christmas Day. Or my Advent can take a slower path where I look and listen and feel God’s presence in my world. I still arrive at Christmas Day, but the wonders are spread all along the way.
Psalm 62:5 For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from God.
Perhaps the single most important part of silence is the space to stop and listen.
To listen for the deepest desire of my heart.
For God alone my soul waits in silence.
Silence is not just a place of no words.
Silence is also a place of stillness.
For God alone my soul waits in stillness.
If I am still, I can more easily experience the presence of God.
If I am silent, I can more easily hear God’s desire in my heart.
For God alone my should waits with the fullness of my being.
As the labor pains begin, I do not yet know the new miracle that is about to be born.
Yet, I am already in love.
For my hope is from God.
Holy God, in our silence and in our stillness, help us to listen more fully and more deeply to you than we could ever imagine. In this space may we see the peace you desire for us. In this space may we sing your praises for hope in the world. Speak your Holy Love into the silence. AMEN
We hope to approach Advent with a sense of reverence, but sometimes it seems we live in a cacophonous circle of noise. We leave our houses with televisions blaring, get in our cars with songs or podcasts talking, go into stores with background music invading our thoughts, and eat out at restaurants or sports bars in buildings built for no sound absorption. This noise can compete with our sense of reverence Are we missing the opportunity to hear God talking to us? Are the angels around us drowned out?
This advent season our thoughts and our prayers center around the people who lived the Christmas story—Mary, Joseph, Jesus, the shepherds, the wise men. What did they know? How did they feel? What prompted them to listen?
Ann Weems has long been one of my favorite writers as her poetry – language of the soul – speaks to me, asks me questions, leads me to God Who calms my fears. Her poem Mary, Nazareth Girl speaks to Mary and asks this same question.
Could it be that you had been ready
for the footsteps
of an angel?
On these days of Advent, let’s make our hearts ready.
The first few days after Christmas can be a bit of a letdown. Some of us are exhausted from shopping, cooking, wrapping, and entertaining. Some of us poured our hearts into decorating our churches or carefully preparing the worship or music. The impact on our moods is predictable. It’s all over.
In our heads, we know the story never ends, but we might struggle with it in our hearts. We continue to remind ourselves throughout the church year that Jesus came, taught us, loved us, and died for us. The story is the same. It’s just the time of the year that changes.
This may be a good time to remind ourselves of the miracle of everyday living. There are days of wonder, but some days are colorless. Somedays we feel close to God; on other days, the awareness of God’s presence eludes us. Most days we just are called to be faithful and trusting, and that is enough.