How do we wait for Christ?
Isaiah 64:1-9 (Advent I)

Nowadays there is not much in the news that calls for cheerfulness. Even the 50-60 percent off Christmas sales that we see in almost every store we walk by seems to be more of a reminder of our gloomy economic times. Yes, it seems we have finally managed to break down some of the racism that is so ingrained in our society by electing a black man into our highest office. But having reached such a historically victorious point in our country, how is it that just as the first black president in America comes to power the economic fabric of our country seems to be tearing apart? It looks like the world is still fundamentally unfair. The weak are still fighting the hardest battles, the poor are still working longer hours for so much less, the innocent are still more likely to be victims, the sick and the lonely are still the most overlooked. There are many times when we feel that God is missing in action.

This aching feeling that God is hiding from us is not particularly new to us. “How long, O Lord, will you look on?” The Psalmist says. In another place he says, “As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, “Where is your God?”” Lamenting like the Psalmist and the Prophets is very much a part of our spiritual journey. In fact, we would not know what it means to hunger and thirst for God’s righteousness without experiencing some form of lamenting within our souls. So what does it mean to lament before God? The lamenting that I am talking about is not the same as complaining. When we complain we do not really expect anything good to come out of a situation, it is an expression of our irritation or discontent with someone or something. However, lamenting has to do with grief and sorrow, like the deep gut wrenching pain that we feel at the loss of a loved one, the loss of freedom, the loss of friendships or the loss of anything that brought meaning into our lives. Along with the sorrow expressed in our lamenting, there is also always a profound hope of restoration or hope of even better and newer things.

The Isaiah passage we read today was written at a time in Israel’s history when they had returned from years of exile in a foreign land. So, one would expect them to feel jubilant on the event of their return to their own country. Coming home to Jerusalem held promises of an end to all of Israel’s shame and discontent while in exile. But sadly things did not turn out as they had imagined it to be. Problems increased rather than disappear, ugliness and evil continued to thrive. If it sounds familiar, it is because in many ways their situation was very much like what we have today. As Christians we have our hopes in the Messiah who has already come. Christ has fulfilled the promise of God’s redemption and restoration for us, however, we often find that life is still full of pain and imperfections. The world continues to be unfair and unjust and we continue to sin and fall short of God’s glory. Like the Israelites, we yearn for Christ to become more real for us, asking ourselves where we might find Christ. And this deep longing for God’s presence in our lives is what must characterize our Advent meditations and soul searching. Advent brings to us the opportunity to acknowledge our aimless wanderings without God’s presence and direction in our lives.

It is out of our painful search for God that lamentations arise from out of our souls. In our lamenting we remind God and ourselves of our relationship with each other like Isaiah did. “Yet, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord, and do not remember iniquity forever. Now consider, we are all your people.” In our lamentations we are able to acknowledge that God needs to intervene in our lives to save us, that we cannot really save ourselves. The pain we feel in what we think is the absence of God is not necessarily because God has chosen to withdraw from us. Yes, the pain is very real, but it is also because of this pain that we can actually turn to God. If we do not realize just how painful our lives are without God, we really cannot prepare meaningfully to receive Christ in our lives. It is only in our painful yearning for God that we are led to repentance from our sins. And it is in our repentance that we begin to open ourselves to a God who has chosen to come amongst us in ways that are unexpectedly ordinary.

It is not God who is absent like we imagine, nor is He the one who divided life into the ordinary and the extraordinary. He has come down to show us that all of life is sacred and extraordinary, that the glory of God lies in the lowly barn, in the humble maiden, amongst the forgotten shepherds beyond the sparkly, power infused cities. We often look for God in pillars of fire and cloud, but God has in fact done much more than show us a glimpse of his glory in the skies. God has opened the heavens completely and come way down to meet us in our sinfulness, way down in our helplessness as babies, way down to our heaviest burdens, and way down to the grave where no one dares to come. Advent is here, God is already here amongst us. We need to prepare here and now to make room for our God who has come seeking us because He knows we have no capacity to get to where He is. In our laments we pray for God to tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at His presence, but it is really our hearts that must open so that Christ may make His presence known to us. May your hearts be ready to receive Christ. Amen.