Advent

advent [ˈædvɛnt -vənt]
n
an arrival or coming, esp one which is awaited


I feel a deep connection with advent this year.  My church in Denver celebrated advent in their own, semi-liturgical way.  They tried to make each service almost ache with a sense of waiting.  I understood it on an intellectual level.  We wait for Christmas, we wait for the coming of the Messiah.  We partake in the waiting so that we can celebrate the answer to our wait. This year I feel it.  I do ache.  My heart aches, my spirit groans.  

Come, Thou long expected Jesus

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee.

Israel’s Strength and Consolation,

Hope of all the earth Thou art;

Dear Desire of every nation,

Joy of every longing heart

The people in the advent story were waiting for someone to save them from their shame, their people’s oppression, their fear, and so many other things. They weren’t expecting the Jesus they got. They were expecting a warrior who would protect them, fight for them, vindicate them.  Instead, they got a baby.  They got a pacifist. They got someone who told them to give up everything they had to follow him.  How will the Emmanuel who comes to me be different from the Emmanuel I am waiting for?  

O come, O come, Emmanuel

And ransom captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to thee, O Israel.

I am waiting for someone to make my heart not hurt anymore, to repay what I have lost, to take away my sadness and give me joy.  Even though every part of me wants to “get over this,” I am going to allow myself to feel.  I’m going to let myself feel the uncomfortable ache.  I will wait for the coming of my Emmanuel because I know He will come.