Waiting can be hard. I feel it myself, and I hear it from those around me all the time. Waiting for marriage. For the birth of a child. The results of a biopsy. Crippling back pain to end. A loved one to come home from the hospital. Depression to lift, fear to settle, and joy to come. Our own thoughts to still, and God to do in us, or in the world, what only God can do.

Sometimes we feel not much different than children on a long car ride asking every fifteen minutes, “Are we there yet?”

Advent is a season of waiting. A season in which we lean into the posture of longing and waiting for Christ who came as a baby to come again in glory, bringing to a visible end the work of conquering evil and death that he completed on the cross.

Waiting is uncomfortable. Is it any wonder that this world has turned the focus of this season away from waiting and longing to busy distraction, trying to fill the emptiness with shortbread cookies and endless purchases and a flurry of wrapping paper and ribbons? We will do almost anything to escape the discomfort of waiting.

But Still Waiting Matters

In waiting we are shaped. As Eugene Peterson paraphrases Paul’s words in Rom 8:22-25:

“All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us.  But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.”

He continues, reassuring us that we have help in the waiting:

“Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God” (vv.26-27).

Gifts in the Waiting

The Spirit’s help is God’s greatest gift to us in the waiting—God himself present with us, aching with us, speaking for us, and extending comfort to us. We need this help of his presence most of all.

But God gives us other gifts to help in the waiting too. Community to walk alongside. Song to lift our hearts along with our voices. Sleep, a break from the ache. The light and beauty of children’s giggles and twinkle lights and centuries of art and literature, each a reminder that darkness and pain do not have the final word. Emptiness will be filled, and longing satisfied with the never-ending goodness and beauty of God himself.

There is another gift God gives us, too, to help in the waiting, one which seems to me particularly rich in this Advent season of intentional waiting. That gift is metaphor. In Advent, among other things, we celebrate Jesus as the Light of the World, Root of Jesse, Wisdom, Key, King and Bright Morning Star.

Some of our Advent songs help us to dig deeper into these images, offering comfort and reassurance in our waiting and longing. And so, today, I’d like to invite you to listen with me to a song I’ve been enjoying that helps us unwrap several of these metaphors.

As you listen with me to Marty Haugen’s “My Soul in Stillness Waits” (sung here by a child on Youtube, or here by a man on Spotify) and follow along with the lyrics below, you might want to prayerfully reflect on these questions:

• What word, phrase, or image mentioned in the song holds the most hope for you today?
• How does it touch you, and what does it mean to you right now?
• What might the Spirit be wanting to say to you? Notice how your heart responds.

My Soul in Stillness Waits

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
O Lord of Light, our only hope of glory,
your radiance shines in all who look to you,
come, light the hearts of all in dark and shadow.

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
O Spring of Joy, rain down upon our spirits,
our thirsty hearts are yearning for your Word,
come, make us whole, be comfort to our hearts.

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
O Root of Life, implant your seed within us,
and in your advent, draw us all to you,
our hope reborn in dying and in rising.

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
O Key of Knowledge, guide us in our pilgrimage,
we ever seek, yet unfulfilled remain,
open to us the pathway of your peace.

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
Come, let us bow before the God who made us,
let ev’ry heart be opened to the Lord,
for we are all the people of his hand.

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits,
truly my hope is in you.
Here we shall meet the Maker of the heavens,
Creator of the mountains and the seas,
Lord of the stars, and present to us now.

In these weeks of waiting, may you experience Emmanuel, God with us, accompanying you and revealing himself to you in whatever way you need.

____________________

Photo by Chris Benson on Unsplash