Silence.
the weight of waiting // advent series, week one
This question forever changed how I think about Advent, and it’s one I can’t quit coming back to year after year. Every time I sit with it, something shifts within. Every time I post it online, the messages flood in. It seems I’m not the only one who needs it, not the only one stunned and stilled and slowed by the thought, the gift, the wonder. And so, here, on December 1st, at the beginning of the last month and the start of the Advent season, I’ll offer it, consider it, wrestle with it once again:
What if the last time God spoke, it was 1624?
It takes half a second to flip from Malachi to Matthew, but 400 years pass in-between. What does 400 years sound like? Quiet. Confusion. Doubt. Has He forgotten us? Maybe we misunderstood. Maybe... we were wrong?
When I look back at this last year for me and many I love, it’s covered in confusion and grief, blanketed in silence and “what is this?” wonderings. There are no perfectly tied bows… instead, we’ll wrap this year up with more questions than when it began, concerns we didn’t have at the start and others we’ve carried through multiple calendar years, worries that press down like a weighted blanket we can’t seem to shake off. We’re wondering when the metaphorical page will turn, waiting for the next chapter in the story, watching the upside-down become the new normal, and yet… we’re not even remotely close to 400 years.
Tonight, on this first Sunday of Advent, I'm looking at all these questions, acknowledging that they’re real and they’re overwhelming, and returning to one in particular—an old one that, years ago, changed how I think about this season. I’m remembering that the Word kept His word, keeps His word, and gets the last word. I’m thinking about the generations that continued to tell the story, the ones who kept on repeating the words while listening for the next line.
Sunrise, sunset, repeat.
Day after day, generation after generation.
Waiting. Remembering. Believing.
And then the page turned.
God didn’t just break the silence with a word… The Word became flesh and moved right into the neighborhood. The promise-maker in Malachi is the promise-keeper in Matthew.
They waited for a word to break the silence, and now we mark 400 years of silence with 4 weeks of hushing.
Waiting, remembering, believing: Christ has come and will come again.
Every Sunday of the Advent season has a “theme” – hope, peace, joy, and love – and, traditionally, each candle of the Advent wreath has a corresponding meaning. In sanctuaries and at kitchen tables, Christians around the world will light the first candle today, often called the Prophecy Candle, recalling prophecies about the Messiah and anticipating, with hope, Christ’s coming. From Malachi to Matthew to a Sunday morning in 2024… the thread runs through, a tapestry woven across centuries, a light flickering in the dark then and now and tomorrow, too, until one day the night is no more and joy, our actual literal inheritance, is so much more than a Christmas carol sung around the world.
We get to tell the story in this in-between, on this page, in the already-not-yet. May we be a people who wait well, who cling to hope when the night is long, who remember and believe even in the silence that darkness doesn’t get the final word.
This weary world and our weary hearts actually do have a very good reason to rejoice: Everything sad will come untrue for Light has come, Love has won, and even now all is being made new.
Hope is here. Emmanuel, God with us forevermore.
Joy to the world.
The Story is in good hands.
I included Micah 7:7 below and then I went back and forth on the two videos. If you received the Holy Week series, you know I often included a bonus song because I just loved too many LOL. One came to mind right away, tying in perfectly with the reflection above, but I knew I included it somewhere among the many in “here, in the week of it all.” A quick search confirmed, yep, sure did: Day seven: for the ones who are waiting. Figures. A glance at the Day 7 verse had me laughing out loud, though, because wouldn’t you know… Micah 7:7. A different translation, but still.
And so apparently we’re accidentally and now very much on purpose beginning a series on waiting with one of the same songs and the same verse we sat with on Silent Saturday of Holy Week. It feels absolutely right, somehow. Day by day, season by season, year by year and generation by generation, Hope holds.
bonus song: You Keep Your Promises
But as for me, I watch in hope for the Lord; I wait for God my Savior. My God will hear me. Micah 7:7
(From Holy Week: But as for me, I will look expectantly for the Lord and with confidence in Him I will keep watch; I will wait [with confident expectation] for the God of my salvation. My God will hear me. Micah 7:7)
To download the lock screen:
Hold down on the image above until there’s an option to “save photo.” If you have an iPhone, go to Settings → Wallpaper → Choose a New Wallpaper → All Photos. Select the image and then shrink it (think: the opposite of zooming in). This will allow the full image to show.
As an early Christmas gift, Week One of the weight of waiting: an advent series is available to everyone! If you think your people might be encouraged or would enjoy reading this piece, I would love for you to share it to your Stories or newsfeed. Here are direct links to excerpts that I posted on Instagram and Facebook.
The rest of the series will be sent to paid subscribers (you can sign up below). If you’re already a paid subscriber to All The Things (We’re one day past “small business Saturday”, but forever and a day I’ll say thank you for supporting my writing!), the weight of waiting will automatically arrive in your inbox.
It looks like it will be a quiet Christmas this year. Our usual full table will only have four instead of our eight. Our families are far away and we will not see them, which makes me sad. We do have worship at church and my time with Jesus, which carries me. I could not bear it without him.