Advent 2020

I love Advent.
Even more than Christmas, I adore Advent. It is the preparations, I like. I’ve always been one a little more comfortable living in the future than in the moment. So often, growing up, big events were a bit of a let down.
Christmas always feels that way to me.

I’ve even extended our family’s experience of Christmas by celebrating for all 12 days of the feast. But still… by the end, it’s January of a new year and everyone is back at work and school and often, it feels like nothing has changed. The hope and peace and love and joy of Christmas has dissipated with the chilly wind. In its place are resolutions we know we won’t keep, bills, clean up, and disillusionment.

But Advent is December. The house is slowly transformed with romantic Christmas lights, candles, bows, and tinsel. It smells of cinnamon and fir trees and chocolate.

Our family, and even our culture, prioritizes togetherness, connection, generosity, and gratitude in these winter holidays. Ironically, the stress of the season is rooted in the desire to do all the good things in a single month instead of all year long.

I mean, it does also expose the harsh realities that many are homeless, that American capitalism is crushing working families, and loneliness lingers and lurks in the glow of the lights. Crime goes up and tempers flare as our expectations and longings are exposed. We are made raw by the waiting and wanting. We are led astray by the temptations of secular Christmas. We confuse indulgence and wealth with abundance. We mistake parties and presents with joy.

But this time of year, we are made so aware of our deepest longing for the righteousness and justice and overwhelming love of God. We crave the hospitality and fellowship of the Spirit manifest among us. We long for the freedom of Christ from our painful lies and devastating habits. We wearily search for the pasture of abundance of God’s Kingdom that truly nourishes.

The work of Advent is to see more clearly what we need and what is enough.

This Advent I wonder what I am preparing for.

Christmas won’t be that different from what life has been all year. What do I need to make it special? Will sameness be enough?

I keep thinking about the incarcerated. My life is mostly about caring for my kids and husband. Taking care of the house, our hamster, making sure everyone is fed and the place is cleaned regularly. I serve as the Coordinator of our local MOPS group. I pray for my leaders and try to train and provide them with resources and support to care for the women in their groups. MOPS was such a blessing to me when my kids were younger. I wanted to pass on that blessing. The restrictions on large group gatherings has made it difficult, but I am doing my best. I just don’t feel very connected to it, to them. I love them. I care about them. But something is missing. And come this May, my service as Coordinator is over. Then what? How will I work? Who will I serve? What will I do? So I think about the incarcerated.

I wonder if my growing attention to those in jail is from God or not. I have no connection to anyone incarcerated. I have no particular skills or qualities or education or experience that would make me of any value to captives. Why should I care about them? How should I care? I discovered there are sites to be a penpal for “someone on the inside.” I could become a great letter-writer, offer connection and friendship to someone who is alone and forgotten, but I also know I am inconsistent, at best, as a writer. Or as a friend. So I wonder, why do I think about them? I don’t actually know them. But I also wonder, do I need to understand before taking the first step? I hesitate because I don’t want to harm someone already on the fringes of society. I hesitate because I am first praying for clarity and for faith.

I am preparing for Christmas, the birth of God into the world as a fragile baby. I prepare to be known and loved, to be a co-collaborator in God’s purposes in the world.