Advent Devotions: Luke 2:29-32

Luke 2:29-32

‘Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.’

Have you ever had to wait a very, very long time for something you truly wanted? What was that waiting like? (Frustrating? Peaceful? Excruciating? Calm?) Perhaps what the wait is like has something to do with our faith - when we trust in the Lord, our wait is much easier. Simeon, who sang this song when he met the infant Jesus after waiting for so long, waited patiently and trusted that the Lord would do as he said. Simeon could now die in peace as God's word had been fulfilled - with Simeon's very own eyes he beheld the glory of the Lord's Messiah. We can imagine Mary placing the baby into the old man's arms, moved by his words of wisdom and faith. Perhaps he put his face near the infant's to see him better, as the elderly often do when holding a child so they can see their face with aged eyes. No doubt, it had to be a precious and tender moment in the memory of the young mother as she thought about it later. A source of comfort and hope in those times when she would have to wait for God to act, like as she stood at the foot of her son's cross on Calvary, or as she grieved his death over that Sabbath night.


We all have moments when we have to wait for God to act. But act he does! In the waiting time we cling to our faith that God's promises are indeed trustworthy and true and we will see the Lord's salvation with our own eyes just like Simeon.


Holy Lord, give us patience and hope as we wait and watch for the return of the Messiah on the last day. Fill our hearts with your light and love, and encourage to recall your wondrous deeds that happen in your time, not ours. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen.

I'm not happy, I'm not sad. . . I am in a time of Advent

Luke 1: 78-79 By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Ever feel like you are wandering through life just waiting for something to happen? Or like you are on the verge of something really big?  That's where I'm at right now. . . I made it through multiple transitions in my recent life and am now waiting for the new day to dawn.  What will it be?  There are endless possibilities. . . and yet I wait and watch to see if this will be the day that it all materializes.

Advent is like that. . . it's a little early in the calendar year to talk about Advent but the Church liturgical cycle points to the reality that life ebbs and flows through various seasons.  There are times of great joy, those Easter moments when the we get the good news that the tomb is actually empty and that Jesus has risen from the grave. No more death, no more pain, no more heartache . . . just grace and joy and resurrection life!  There are seasons of darkness and grief, those Good Fridays of Holy Week, where we lament lost dreams, lost loved ones, lost opportunities.  There are those Lenten times when it's a mixture of sorrow and hope for the future.  There are seasons of light, those Epiphany moments where all we can see is light streaming in the windows of our spirit, illuminating all those places in us that need to be renewed and refreshed.  There is ordinary time when steady occurs, like blades of grass that seem to grow overnight but you can't catch it with the naked eye.  Or when your child seems to have sprouted an inch from the time you tucked him into bed and when he awoke in the morning.  There are times when the Holy Spirit is up to something new within us. . . where a Pentecost fire is lit in our gut and we are sent out into the world with fervor and excitement.  There are the Christmases of life where everything seems to be pure gift, where every little aspect of life is cherished and held as sacred.

But this is Advent for me.  A time of waiting and watching. . . what will come next?  I feel like I'm on pins and needles. . . you know the feeling.  I'm not anxious in a negative way; I'm anxious in a way that is like being on high alert, a sentinel watching, scanning the horizon for the sun to peek its head out and bring light and life and opportunity.  What I am actually waiting for, I do not know.  I don't have to know.  God who is faithful will reveal it to me when the time is right, God's kairos time is perfect- never too early and never too late.  I have a feeling, though, that it's going to be big!  Until then I sit quietly in prayer, waiting, listening, watching so that I'll be ready when the time comes.