Advent is for the weary
In New England, the season of Advent creeps into the literal darkness of December. As the days shorten, the holiday season ramps up, it’s frenzied and bright. The loudest messages speak of exuberance and abundance and assume a constant state of exhaustive cheer. And while joy is central to the coming of Christ, the season of Advent also presses back with a counter-cultural invitation into a stillness of soul as we watch for the coming light. Much like a pregnancy, the profundity of this season of waiting makes way for deepening anticipation leading to bursting hope. That is the goodness of the season – a yearning for restoration that grows with each day and culminates with the dawning of Christmas Day.
Space for longing and sorrow
Leaning into Advent is leaning into the night. The minor tones of sorrow and suffering belong in this season. The birth of Jesus broke into a season of silence, pain, and desolation for the people of Israel, and was soon followed by Herod’s infanticide as he sought to protect his throne. The time surrounding Christ’s birth was one of deep sorrow. Just as He was born into grief, He continued that theme throughout His life. His newborn cries from the manger signaled the coming of His final cries from the cross. His miraculous birth pronounced the definite promise of His sacrificial death. The holy babe came to live a life of sacrifice and love before God, of war against evil, of hardship and healing, of agony and abundance. His acquaintance with grief makes space for our own. Advent is a season for those who suffer, those who doubt, who long for healing, hope, and peace. Advent is indeed for the weary.
The redemptive movement of God towards His people took millennia, and the fulfillment of Christ’s incarnation took a full forty weeks. Just as Mary prepared herself, body and soul, to welcome her child and for the responsibility of motherhood, so we prepare our hearts as we remember the first coming of Christ and long for the second. This soul preparation includes recognizing the places of hurt and grief, recognizing where balm is needed. We direct our hearts towards a lament that mirrors the decades of suffering and longing that Simeon and Anna experienced. We embrace a lament that looks ahead with tenacious hope, exhaling finally when all things are made new, and our gracious King has come again. The patient process of stepping into Advent has all the goodness of a labor of love, as we tend the soil of our souls by looking back with awe and looking ahead with expectation.
So we remember
The weeks leading up to Christmas offer a rich opportunity to remember the darkness that Christ was born into.
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone.” Isaiah 9:2
We too are in the darkness. We too long to see the light.
“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His Word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” Psalm 130:5-6
We have the promise that night will end, that morning will come, that the sun will rise bright and beautiful and warm, with healing in its wings. So we wait, with eager expectation, for the dawning of the new day of hope, restoration, and resurrection. Come soon, Lord Jesus. Amen.
Rebecca Faulks is a nurse, seminary student, and member at Mosaic Boston church in Boston, MA.
