Waiting, hoping, and wondering. They clung to a hope they could not see. They believed a promise that seemed impossible. They kept their faith even when things were dreadfully bleak. They waited.
These saints of old waited for the promise. The King would come and set things right. This is the essence of Advent – an expectant, unwavering, hope-filled waiting.
I can’t imagine what it must have been like to have such deep expectation for a promise and not live long enough to see it come to fruition. However, men and women of God didn’t give up. They chose to believe their Advent King would come.
There is a moment in life where we question everything. Doubts begin to rise. Our faith begins to falter. We wonder did we get it wrong. How is it possible for life to keep going but to feel fixed in time, stuck in the same place with no advancing movement? Maybe you’ve felt it too.
Perhaps it is the season. Emotions run high, low, and everywhere in between. We are faced with yet another ending. The year has run its course again. We are left holding on a flimsy, hole-poked bag of “all we had to give.” Life demands more. It keeps asking. It does not relent. We may even feel we have nothing left to offer.
Don’t be trippin booh! You are stronger than you think you are. You have accomplished far more than you’ve given yourself credit for. You have overcome some funky wonky obstacles you didn’t think you’d make it through, but look … God brought you through.
And every moment you thought you’d fall apart to the ground in a million pieces, the Lord came – reminded you that He “holds all things together.” Then remember when He whispered these words that set your soul at ease? You know! Those life-words that no human could ever have known you needed. Here they are again: “we (You, child of God) are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we (You, dear one) should walk in them.”
I can’t say I really even like this word, but it’s the one that sums of life at the present moment. So much is broken and in need of repair: thinking, believing, knowing, trusting, doing – they’re broken, so very fragile.
So maybe it’s a good thing that “it” didn’t come to me, didn’t pan out the way I thought it should. Sometimes no is the answer. Sometimes you have to be okay with the “no.” Perhaps it is for your good, and there is something better – at least those are the lines people tell me, but they’re not walking in my shoes. They’re not feeling my heartache. They can’t understand the tinge of disappointment. They can’t hear the distant hush of the accuser. They can’t see how it feels like dreams have died in the winter – frozen and not growing.
I’d be lying if I said I was happy. I am only flesh and blood.