Remember last Advent? It began with so much promise. On Christmas day we'd all be able to get together and celebrate Christmas - I can't even remember what the rules were, but singing (outside) had come back for carol services and the promise of rules being slightly relaxed over Christmas was there. The beginning of December had a sense of anticipation, the rules were different all over the country and we had to have a contingency plan depending on which tier we sat in......
But then..... the descent began in earnest..... particularly in London where we fell (or case rates rose) so hard that a new tier was invented to mark the descent. Food orders were cancelled, the surplus we collected for food parcels grew larger and the bedding in began. I was told to 'get out while you can' so I could spend time with my family bubble (a privilege, a blessing, a saving grace as I drove past signs that said 'go home, turn back, all is doomed' on the motorway). The current fear over the omicron variant brings all of that back..... the cancelling of parties and the worry about going out. It's just a bit ominous.
When all that is hoped for is taken away, the disappointment digs deep.
For some, though, this reality of disappointment at Christmas is not new. The season of Advent becomes an increasing reminder of what they haven't got, rather than what is coming. The build up towards a celebration that our culture focusses on abundance in family life when family life is lacking, it's bitter sweet, painful, frustrating.
I love Christmas, the build up, the time with family and friends, the celebration of the birth of the Messiah. I go a bit crazy at times with it all. But in amongst all of that, the reminders that I am on my own and getting older are still there. Ministry is often a lonely vocation, but I've learnt to deal with the lack of a work Christmas do where I can just let go (the pandemic's party pooper attitude is not a problem to me). I still get excited on Christmas morning and wake up far too early even though I am by myself. But.... I also feel lonely at times. I don't have someone to take me out on a Christmas night out and as my years ticked past 40, the promise of my own family to walk through advent with has just about slipped away. But I'm alright, I can manage all of that, I'm mostly content, things are OK for me.
But I know that there are others who find all of it incredibly hard. Christmas is the loneliest time, a time when brokenness is felt most acutely, when family breakdown is difficult to navigate, when loss is marked by the sad empty chair at the table. In the build up to a celebration that focusses on the birth of a baby, the pain of involuntary childlessness can be hard to bear.
In the midst of the story of the incarnation, we find a couple who know that pain. Elizabeth and Zechariah, who I would love to know better and understand their story more, have wanted one thing their entire life, but have not been able to have it. Their marriage is one tinged with sadness because the child they desired didn't come. And although the Biblical story does change all of that, let us pause for a moment in their grief.... because this is where some of us are.
Perhaps in amongst the waiting of advent is not only a call to look ahead to what is coming, but a call to hear and see the frustrations of now. For some waiting is more like being stuck in Holy Saturday, that time between Jesus' death and resurrection where all was silent and dark. There are many for whom living life is learning to find fullness despite..... and navigating the waiting room is working out how that is possible for them.
So in our waiting, let us be aware that there are people close by who have been waiting forever, the promise of the light at the end of the tunnel has been dragged further and further away, or the route has been changed to one they didn't expect to take. Let us sit with them where they are, be with them as they work out the way out of the waiting room, let us pray for new hope.
"And when the time for the burning of incense came, all the assembled worshippers were praying outside" Luke 1:10
Image from flickr
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