Today marks the beginning of the season of Advent, and what feels like the middle of everyone’s Christmas preparations. Trees and lights and decorations are going up, gifts are being purchased and recipes gathered. With the excitement of these preparations in full swing, I know it’s kind of a bummer to come to worship and hear stories not about the pregnant and glowing Mary or the sweet baby Jesus, but about waiting, and staying awake, and being ready, and kidnapping, and thieves.
Festive, right?! So, here’s the deal: “Advent” means “coming”. And while it certainly refers to the incarnation, to Jesus coming among us in his birth, it also points to God coming at the end of time.
Like the original audience of this passage from Matthew’s gospel, we find ourselves in the in-between. We know that Jesus already came - that he was born and lived and died and rose again and ascended. And yet, we know there’s still more to come. In his death and resurrection, Jesus conquered death, but we’re still waiting for that day when death and mourning and crying and pain will be no more. We know that God holds the ultimate power, but we’re still waiting for that day when sin and brokenness and evil will finally meet their match once and for all.
The gospel writer admonishes us to keep awake, and be ready, emphasizing many times that “about that day and hour no one knows.” Despite this assertion, there are those believers who have devoted themselves to convoluted formulas that attempt to predict the day and hour. Predictions which, thus far, have come and gone, and yet here we are.
There’s a bumper sticker I’ve seen that says, “Jesus is coming. Look busy!” That seems to be the goal of predicting the day and time. It’s an awful lot of work to pretend to follow Jesus, so if I could just know when I should start loving my neighbor, and caring for those in need, and attending to the state of my heart…
It seems that the reminder that we don’t know the day or the hour is really a reminder that being awake and ready is part of what it means to follow Jesus. Rather than a heightened sense of awareness for a particular time, it is our way of life. Sometimes I think we view waiting as something that takes our full attention. Like, okay, put away your activities, it’s time to wait. And so we sit. And wait. And do nothing but stare at the clock as the hands seem to circle more slowly than we thought possible.
But what if waiting is more like an awareness that hums along in the background of whatever we’re doing? What if the work we are called to still takes precedence, as we, strengthened and empowered by the Holy Spirit, seek the justice, mercy, and love of God’s coming kingdom?
Today’s gospel text is a favorite of those who ascribe to so-called rapture theology. Popularized by the “Left Behind” book series and movies, the not-quite-biblical idea is that at the end of time, God will first come and take away all the believers before raining down tribulation and judgment on everyone left behind, and then come again to pick up anyone else who was faithful.
What’s interesting here, though, is that by making the comparison to the Noah story, the gospel writer is saying that it’s actually the unfaithful who are “swept away” or “taken with” and the faithful who are left behind. Either way, this is not meant as a blueprint of what will take place when Jesus comes, but rather a metaphor for what it means to live in the in-between time - the faithful ones left behind have more work to do.
In his commentary on today’s gospel text, professor O. Wesley Allen, Jr. describes it like this: “Having already been transformed by the Christ-event, the church is invited to participate in the transformation of the world yet still in process! In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus teaches us to ask that God’s reign come, that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven. In [this] discourse, Jesus gives us the opportunity to partner with God in answering that prayer.”
Our waiting is not all-consuming or paralyzing, nor is it a chance to hurry up and look busy at the last minute. Instead, our waiting is filled with the work we are called to, yes, and also the assurance that God is with us even now, and that God is faithful. In the midst of this in-between time, we are strengthened and encouraged by reminders that we do not wait alone.
Our waiting and working are done alongside this community. We remind one another to “keep awake!” and work and sing and pray on behalf of those who are losing heart. Most importantly, though, our waiting and working is done with and through the presence of God. Even when we slumber, even when we forget, even when we’re impatient - it is God’s faithfulness and not our own that defines the in-between time. In this time, we are sustained by the meal we share - the body and blood of Jesus in this bread and wine, given to us as a foretaste of the heavenly feast for which we wait.
We do not know the day or the hour – no one does! But we do know that God is with us, and that God’s promises and faithfulness are steady and secure. This is the hope we cling to when the waiting seems long and the way ahead unclear.
Festive, right?! So, here’s the deal: “Advent” means “coming”. And while it certainly refers to the incarnation, to Jesus coming among us in his birth, it also points to God coming at the end of time.
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| Photo by Raphael Nogueira on Unsplash |
Like the original audience of this passage from Matthew’s gospel, we find ourselves in the in-between. We know that Jesus already came - that he was born and lived and died and rose again and ascended. And yet, we know there’s still more to come. In his death and resurrection, Jesus conquered death, but we’re still waiting for that day when death and mourning and crying and pain will be no more. We know that God holds the ultimate power, but we’re still waiting for that day when sin and brokenness and evil will finally meet their match once and for all.
The gospel writer admonishes us to keep awake, and be ready, emphasizing many times that “about that day and hour no one knows.” Despite this assertion, there are those believers who have devoted themselves to convoluted formulas that attempt to predict the day and hour. Predictions which, thus far, have come and gone, and yet here we are.
There’s a bumper sticker I’ve seen that says, “Jesus is coming. Look busy!” That seems to be the goal of predicting the day and time. It’s an awful lot of work to pretend to follow Jesus, so if I could just know when I should start loving my neighbor, and caring for those in need, and attending to the state of my heart…
It seems that the reminder that we don’t know the day or the hour is really a reminder that being awake and ready is part of what it means to follow Jesus. Rather than a heightened sense of awareness for a particular time, it is our way of life. Sometimes I think we view waiting as something that takes our full attention. Like, okay, put away your activities, it’s time to wait. And so we sit. And wait. And do nothing but stare at the clock as the hands seem to circle more slowly than we thought possible.
But what if waiting is more like an awareness that hums along in the background of whatever we’re doing? What if the work we are called to still takes precedence, as we, strengthened and empowered by the Holy Spirit, seek the justice, mercy, and love of God’s coming kingdom?
Today’s gospel text is a favorite of those who ascribe to so-called rapture theology. Popularized by the “Left Behind” book series and movies, the not-quite-biblical idea is that at the end of time, God will first come and take away all the believers before raining down tribulation and judgment on everyone left behind, and then come again to pick up anyone else who was faithful.
What’s interesting here, though, is that by making the comparison to the Noah story, the gospel writer is saying that it’s actually the unfaithful who are “swept away” or “taken with” and the faithful who are left behind. Either way, this is not meant as a blueprint of what will take place when Jesus comes, but rather a metaphor for what it means to live in the in-between time - the faithful ones left behind have more work to do.
In his commentary on today’s gospel text, professor O. Wesley Allen, Jr. describes it like this: “Having already been transformed by the Christ-event, the church is invited to participate in the transformation of the world yet still in process! In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus teaches us to ask that God’s reign come, that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven. In [this] discourse, Jesus gives us the opportunity to partner with God in answering that prayer.”
Our waiting is not all-consuming or paralyzing, nor is it a chance to hurry up and look busy at the last minute. Instead, our waiting is filled with the work we are called to, yes, and also the assurance that God is with us even now, and that God is faithful. In the midst of this in-between time, we are strengthened and encouraged by reminders that we do not wait alone.
Our waiting and working are done alongside this community. We remind one another to “keep awake!” and work and sing and pray on behalf of those who are losing heart. Most importantly, though, our waiting and working is done with and through the presence of God. Even when we slumber, even when we forget, even when we’re impatient - it is God’s faithfulness and not our own that defines the in-between time. In this time, we are sustained by the meal we share - the body and blood of Jesus in this bread and wine, given to us as a foretaste of the heavenly feast for which we wait.
We do not know the day or the hour – no one does! But we do know that God is with us, and that God’s promises and faithfulness are steady and secure. This is the hope we cling to when the waiting seems long and the way ahead unclear.
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