Already, communities are a-buzz with Christmas festivities. Lights are up, trees are decorated, and carols are resounding at concerts. In some ways, it’s as if society has fast-forwarded through the month of December and we’re already at Christmas Eve.
But in the church, first, we observe Advent – a season that’s easily skipped as we rush toward Christmas. And, a season that is actually more uncomfortable than might meet the eye. Why? Because Advent is a season that forces us to pause.
Now, “pausing” might sound like a pretty sweet thing in the midst of so many obligations. But think about what happens when we finally stop after having been racing around at a rat’s-race pace, after we finally get that last project done, after all the funeral details are attended to, after we get home from family gatherings, or after we recognize that we’ve been filling our calendars with this-that-and-the-other-thing just to keep busy. What happens when all that stops? Often, everything else that we’ve been pushing to the side creeps to the surface: the restlessness, the uncertainty, the doubt, the questions, the weariness. Basically, everything that we try to keep suppressed with a “happy face.”
Which, I get it, none of that is “fun” to face head-on. So when we think about a season that forces us to pause, and to wait, this season of Advent can actually be very, very uncomfortable because it pushes us to acknowledge things that we’ve been pushing aside for far too long.
But at the same time that Advent pushes us to recognize these harsh realities, the space and silence of waiting also prompts us to pay attention to something else as well: to watch, and to wait, for what God is doing (even in our weariness) to transform us, preparing us to receive God’s promises with joy. In our Gospel lesson this past Sunday, we heard that Zechariah was forced into this period of silence after he was deemed mute by the angel Gabriel. Which, in many respects, might seem like a punishment. But in light of what silence has the capacity to do: 1) to acknowledge what is going on within us and around us, and 2) to watch, and to wait, for what God is already doing, I wonder if the time of silence that Zechariah experienced was actually given as a gift.
So in the coming weeks of Advent, my encouragement to you is to carve out space. And, to make time for silence. That silence will likely be uncomfortable at first. But, that silence has the potential to be a gift for you as it challenges you to acknowledge where you’re at, and as it transforms you to receive with joy a promise that, though it might seem too good to be true, is God’s very promise for you.