the Fourth Tuesday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
So Sings My Soul
22-25 All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy. 26-28 Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. (Romans 8:22-28 The Message)
I am not sure when I first became aware of the way my subconscious converses with my conscious self through song. But in the same way you begin to see the same car you just purchased, around every corner, I notice it happening all the time now. The soundtrack of my spirit–the songs I catch myself singing in this season–have included Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Gonna Come,” Dylan’s “The Times They are A Changin’,” The Five Stairsteps’ “Ooh Child,” and John Mayer’s “Waiting on the World to Change.” It didn’t take long to discern what these songs were surfacing from deep within my spirit. They point to questions with which I have been wrestling–questions of why and when. Specifically: “Why the Wait?”, “When is a change gonna come?”, and “When are things going to get easier?”
Waves pull us from shore.
Tides of power, privilege,
Drown our common soul.
Perhaps it is COVID-related, or maybe it is because I am getting older, but I find myself increasingly tired of the tension and frustrated with the wait. My lament of late often presents the same way it did when I was eight years old, when my parents wouldn’t let me do what I wanted to do or told me I had to wait. “But why?”, I would ask in a whiny voice that made their eyes squint and scowl in annoyance. Rarely did I receive an answer that satisfied me.
Now here I am creeping up on 50, with my spirit whining to our divine parent – WHY? Why does shalom seem so far off? Why must we wait for the kingdom to come? How much longer must people suffer oppression, injustice, inequality, harm, and sickness? How much longer will we continue to pursue power and possessions at the expense of people and creation? How much longer must we cry, “Come. Lord Jesus. Come.”?
Longing for Kin-dom.
Frozen by culture’s cold clutch.
We lament the wait.
God has yet to provide me with a specific answer to “why the wait?” (I do have some theories). What God has offered, though, is perhaps even better: assurance. That assurance was strengthened as I read the New Testament text from today’s lectionary (Romans 8:18-30; particularly verses 22-28). Though I have not given birth to a child, the imagery of pregnancy and labour resonates. There is hopeful assurance in knowing that “the difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs” (vs. 22). They are symptoms of something beautiful being formed, not only around us, but also within us (vs. 23). There is a strange sort of comfort in knowing that none of us waits alone, singing our lament as a solo. Rather, this waiting is a communal experience; we are labouring together. Songs like the ones echoing in my spirit have been sung–and continue to be sung–by choruses of people longing for change, yearning for full deliverance, desiring to see Christ’s Kin-dom come, God’s will to be done on earth. As I consider our co-labouring, I find myself wondering if our waiting has reached the point where it is time for us to collectively push. I wonder if God is waiting on us.
God is longing, too,
A springtime of renewal.
Who’s waiting on who?
The times they are a changin’, the Holy Spirit is birthing something, the contractions are getting closer, the Kin-dom is crowning. God hears our aching groans, our wordless sighs - keep pushing. “God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along'' (vs. 26), partnered with us, strengthening, refreshing, and spurring us on. The sighs, the groans, the lament will transition to songs of joy. I don’t know when, and I don’t understand why it does not happen now. I am, however, assured that, as we actively wait for God to bring to glorious completion what Christ has begun in and among us, as we lean into our calling to bring blessings to the nations and flourishing to all people, as we partner with Christ in His mission of restoration and reconciliation, we will push back the darkness and silence the enemy. The soundtracks of our spirits will increasingly be songs of Joy. The hope, peace, joy, and love of Christ’s Kin-dom advent are waiting to be birthed.
Songs of lament yield
Like melting snow in springtime
Come. Christ Jesus. Come
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