Waiting and Comfort

Okay, so I'm a bit late on this post (Bum finger. See below); many apologies. "Late's better than never, right?" Alas, you'll be the judge of that...

This past Sunday began the season known as Advent, or more commonly called Christmas time, or in the retail world: "The month that will make-or-break us this year." Advent simply means "a coming to," and Christians ponder and celebrate God's "coming to us" during this time of year. As I wondered about preparing my heart for this season, I've been reflecting on a few things.

1. The above Rembrandt painting has been very helpful. Here, Simeon (of whom we spoke on Sunday), stands in awe as he cradles the Lord's Christ. Simeon had been promised that he would not see death until he gazed at The One Through Whom God Would Make Everything Right. What would all the days have been like up until that day of release at the Temple? Rembrandt captured the old man's face and hands perfectly. Awe and wonder in the eyes and mouth, and feeble hands that would not dare drop this Little One. To know of Simeon means to know of his waiting and the vindicating comfort he found as the Baby wiggled in his now-strained arms. Christmas is for those who have (and still are) waited on the kind guarantees of God. The expectant know it best.

2. I broke my finger on Thanksgiving. And there is nothing I can do about it except wait. I can't make the osteoblasts work faster as they repair what is fractured. I don't like this posture of waiting. It reminds me that I loathe my limits and the "draught of Control" goes down nicely. "Simeon, you trouble me."

3. Lastly, I don't want to be 'that guy' that takes to task the current, cultural 'air' (both secular and ecclesial) surrounding Christmas. But, I do (kindly, humbly, and genuinely) ask, "What makes Christmas so joyful in the first place?" More stuff(ing)? The Arrival of a fire insurance policy? Don't get me wrong: Gifts are good and Jesus saving you from your sins is both necessary and true. But Simeon was waiting for something much bigger: the World, at last, being put to rights (you can listen to the sermon for more). God, finally, rent time and space like wet toilet paper to rescue a Pining Bride and mend what faded in the Garden.

Watts' Joy to the World only 'sings' when Brooks' "hopes and fears of all the years" are known deep down. I'm seeking to know this and look forward to the Second Christmas. If you're waiting like this, you've got something to teach me.