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"Waiting in Hope" It all begins out in the wilderness….out in the desert. John the Baptist…strange, wild John the Baptist. Dressed in his camel’s hair cloak, a leather belt tied at his waist. Strange, wild John the Baptist, out in the wilderness, eating locusts and wild honey. Strange, wild, John the Baptist—far from civilization, yet surrounded by those who have ventured out into the wilderness to see, to hear what this strange, wild John is about. They come, because there has been talk. There has been speculation. They come, because they have heard, this John might be the one. The anointed one. The new king. The deliverer. And so they come to hear what he has to say. He seems to know what they are thinking. What they are wondering. In his words, he lets them know that he is not the one for whom they wait. But he also tells them this news: The one for whom they wait is on the way! “The who is more powerful than I is coming after me: I am not worthy to stoop down and untie his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he, the one who is coming, will baptize you with God’s own Spirit!” The wait is on. And the wait is filled with expectant hope. All waiting is, really, filled with hope, that is. Hope is why we wait, after all. Waiting for a red light, hoping it won’t be long before you are on your way down the road. Waiting for a friend to arrive. Hoping their appearing won’t be delayed, hoping that their arrival will fill your heart with the joy you remember and long for again in the presence of your friend. Waiting for the beginning of a program. Hoping that it will fulfill your expectations. Waiting your turn in line, hoping for an encounter with the person or thing that you have come to see. Waiting for a cake to bake, bread to raise, the turkey to brown—in hope of the delicious reward for your patience. Waiting for news from a distant loved one, hoping that the news will be good, and the assurance that the one you love is safe, cared for, alright. Wherever we wait, we hope. Whenever we wait, we hope. And so, advent, this season of waiting, begins also in hope. But we modern people have a problem. We are forever inventing ways to save time, to decrease our waiting. We are forever coming up with technological advances to hurry things along. And I wonder, as we shorten our waits, what else might be lost along the way? A little girl named Samantha loved pumpkin pie. Every year she could count on her grandmother to bring pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving dinner. But as her grandma aged, it became more and more difficult for her to bake the pies by herself. So this year would be different. Little Sam would help. When it came time to bake the pies, Sam followed her grandmother’s instructions; she carefully mixed all of the ingredients together while her grandmother prepared the pie crusts. Together they poured the pumpkin filling into the pie shells and placed them in the oven. Sam’s grandmother told her to set the timer for an hour. "An hour!" Samantha cried. "Why does it take so long?” “Because the pies must bake, and that cannot be hurried,” her grandmother said. “Sure it can. We can just nuke the pies in the microwave!" Sam told her. "Be patient, my child" Sam’s grandmother said. "When I was a young girl and helped my grandmother do the cooking, she told me stories of the days she was your age when they didn’t even have an electric oven. Before they did any cooking, they had to bring in the wood from outside, then start a fire, and then wait for the fire to make hot coals, and then, put the pies in it to bake.” Sam was shocked. She had hoped for a pie to eat, and quickly so. But her grandmother had hoped for the opportunity to spend the “waiting time” with her granddaughter, building memories, sharing the moment that would too soon be past, lost and forgotten. One of the benefits of technological advancement is that tasks that formerly required time or effort are now quickly and easily accomplished. It used to be that if you wanted to send someone a message you had to take out paper and pen, write the message, address the envelope, stamp and mail it, only to wait days for a reply. Now, thanks to the Internet, a message can be delivered within seconds, and a reply is often received in a matter of moments. Of course, most of us wouldn’t want to trade in the modern conveniences that we’ve learned to take for granted. Still, it might benefit us to be reminded that waiting is part of our human experience and isn’t necessarily all bad. In fact, a quick survey of how God has acted in human history reveals that, as far as he is concerned, we are very much a waiting people. Throughout Scripture we find the people of God waiting. Adam and Eve, Abraham, Job, David, Isaiah. These and many others drew their last breath waiting for God to fulfill his promise and send the Messiah. If there is one word that best captures the meaning of the season of Advent, it is probably waiting. And yet, with all of the hustle and bustle leading up to Christmas, about the last thing we’re interested in is waiting. And that includes waiting for Christmas! And so the Christmas tree goes up right after Thanksgiving, and Christmas carols are played and sung all through the month of December. And once the sun sets on December 25, all signs of Christmas quickly vanish. So what do we mean when we speak of Advent as a season for waiting? In a sense, the weeks leading up to Christmas are intended as a training ground. Yes, we are preparing for another commemoration of our Savior’s birth. But it’s much more than that. In one sense, we join with the ancient Israelites who waited for centuries for God’s light to shine forth in the person of his Son. But our waiting also focuses on Christ’s promise that he will one day return to redeem and restore Creation into the promise God meant it to be from the beginning. And we are reminded to be watchful and ready—waiting in the “hope” of Christ’s return. All of God’s promises ultimately focus on the One who was born in Bethlehem. Advent does help prepare us for the celebration of Christmas. After all, the King is on his way! But not just to Bethlehem where he arrived in a stable some 2,000 years ago. The King is on his way, even now, in Word and Sacrament, bringing fullness and life. And the King is to come again. He’s promised. We wait in the hope of that promise fulfilled. And so,
And so we wait. (long pause) Will it be worth it? (pause) I hope so!
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