As we break from The Story as a church to focus on the upcoming Christmas season, I've been attracted to reflecting on Advent.
Advent - what has now become known as a mad dash from Black Friday to Christmas Day is a long-historied tradition of penance and waiting, much like Lent.
Advent, from the Latin "Adventus". Adventus. Adventus means "a coming".
First appearing in the 3rd and 4th century Catholic texts, this "coming" was a time of preparation and fasting. Early church fathers compelled the church to remember the feast of Christmas Day and Epiphany, signifying when the three wise men brought gifts to the baby Jesus. It was 40 days of concentrated remembrance of the God who came to earth as a little baby. The promise fulfilled. Not just "a" coming, but THE coming.
Catholic church members would fast Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, balancing the preparation of their heart with the wonder of this great mystery of Emmanuel - God with us. The catechism states, "when the Church celebrates the liturgy of Advent each year, she makes present this ancient expectancy of the Messiah, for by sharing in the long preparation for the Savior's first coming, the faithful renew their ardent desire for His second coming."
Adventus again. A second coming.
I'm making my lists for things I need to make. Things I need to give - to my neighbors, to my co-workers, to my friends, my families. Schedules of Christmas parties, Christmas giving, travel and cooking. Each revolves around my going. And running. And moving. And doing.
But around the candlelight and Christmas lights this year, am I being still and remembering to celebrate the coming of Jesus. His first coming - the marvel of Jesus laying down his crown for a plan to redeem the hearts of an entire planet for the chance we would receive him into our open arms. His second coming - like a champion with hair like snow and feet like bronze, with the word coming from his mouth like fire, the King of heaven and earth. That one day sadness and sickness will die in the precious, cleansing flood of a completed work. Am I pondering that when I sit in my glowing front room, diligently wrapping color-coordinated gifts?
Equally important, am I remembering his coming every day? How he waits at the door of my anxious heart for an invitation for him to still my fears and frustrations. How he comes to put his arms around my grief when I hear another story of illness and disease. How he sits next to me when I remember the empty places that will be at our family's table this year and sadness starts to drown my inner thoughts. How he laughs with me when my 2 year old son is old enough to be excited this year for lights and boxes covered with foil and ribbon. How he delights in the quiet nights that my husband and I will spend with the tree brightly lit, and our living room dimmed, and reflect on the past year.
Jesus came. He is coming again. And he comes every day. Adventus. It is the greatest of all mysteries, and envelopes us every day. The great King Jesus, baby, friend, God, savior, prince, faithful friend, redeemer.
Adventus! Come, Lord Jesus!
