| Expectation |
I was commenting last Sunday on how heavy the papers have gotten just because of the fliers that come with them. Now, I admit to you that I was remarking my surprise at all the things for sale that we do not need. We, at our house, have determined that we do not need the life size Santa (what is a ‘life-size’ Santa anyway!) for our driveway that shouts ‘ho ho ho’ because we’d like to stay on good terms with our neighbours ...
However, my surprise at all the things nobody could possibly need doesn’t mean that I don’t have any wishes. I do. We all do.
I remember how, when I was a child, I looked out for the Christmas toy catalogue from our favourite toy store. Back then it came once a year delivered with the daily paper at Christmas time. Even when I was a teenager I still looked for it and looked through it cover to cover, mostly because of the memories I had looking through it as a young child.
It was an important time for me, even though I admit, that there are not many presents I can still remember. There is my first bicycle, a few books, a go-cart. What I can remember is the anticipation of Christmas. In fact, the anticipation was almost the best part. I like the expression of ‘looking forward to’. Something we look forward to is surely coming, we know which way to look, and looking forward to it is half the joy.
One year, when I was perhaps six or seven years old, my excitement about Christmas got the better part of me and I decided to go looking around the house to see if I would be able to find anything. (My parents never talked about Santa Claus, so no one ever had to tell me where the presents came from).
Unfortunately, I did find some presents. Once I had found them there was a let down. If there had been anything I could have done to make my search undone, I would have. It was perhaps two weeks before Christmas. Maybe only one. But to me it seemed a very long time. I found presents for members of our family, including me. I don’t even remember what they were. All I remember is how I suddenly realized that having gone looking for them had really not been a good idea.
Contrary to what I had thought, finding them was an anticlimactic experience. The surprise was now gone. The anticipation was gone. And since it wasn’t Christmas yet and no one had given them to me I couldn’t play with them anyway. I couldn’t even talk about them (although I did).
I remember vividly how I had robbed myself. What I love about this time of year is the anticipation. And I have long learned the value of anticipation. It is not so much about the presents themselves anymore but more about the sparkle in the eye of the giver. (Or the thought and imagination I have put into my giving). It is about what the presents represent: Love, affection, devotion.
That’s why I love Advent because it is all about anticipation. Not in my wildest dreams would I want to give up this season of anticipation and replace it with four weeks of recorded Christmas music only for it to be all over on Boxing Day. See, I love anticipation as much as Christmas itself. And the truth is, that anticipation is what faith is all about. It is about expecting, looking forward to, orienting ourselves on what will surely be, on the promises God has made. It is about not taking the present reality of the world for the final stage of things, not for the ultimate reality, but it means that whatever happens around me and to me now will be affected by what is still coming. And what is it that is still coming? It is the reign of God, the realm of peace, the heavenly banquet, the new creation, the world ruled by love for God and each other. It is Emmanuel, God with us.
Don’t skip Advent. Celebrate it. Don’t be too busy. Take time for Advent. Celebrate your hope. During this season and always. Because we are a people of hope.
Yours, Pastor Christoph
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| Posted by Christoph Reiners on Tuesday, July 19, 2005 at 22:36
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