Advent - the need to wait

I couldn’t believe what I saw in my local SPAR tonight - yes, crème eggs everywhere! I’ve seen them on Boxing Day before but never this early. 

Why can’t we do one thing before rushing on to another? It seems supermarkets want us to have a year long festival of eating! 

This feeling that we need instant lovely things has become more prevalent in recent years. We had one holiday a year growing up and you waited for it. It was always to Cromer, which, for a young child was as boring as you could get - but you waited to go away excitedly. We had to save up to buy things, we rarely went out for dinner (the Wimpy in Luton was a treat) and as for Christmas, it didn’t start in November! People are putting decorations up far earlier than we did. 

And -  I want to know who is buying crème eggs in December.  

Why can’t we wait? Have we no patience these days? If you had treats every day, they would cease to be special. We need, as this poem below by Polly Castor calls it, an Advent of waiting…

Advent of Waiting

Sometimes waiting
fizzes and percolates
with excitement and anticipation.
We feel God at work in our lives,
knowing transformation
is inevitably coming,
and sense there is something
amazing to be revealed,
just around the corner.
We wait with tremendous
hope and expectation,
like a wide-eyed kid wondering
if someone will guess the surprise.

But waiting can be agonizing too.
Maybe we are doubtful,
or feel disconnected, blasé,
uninspired, lonely, or burdened.
Maybe we are awaiting relief
from sickness or grief,
from awful transgression or fear.
Maybe we’re lost in a wilderness
and too exhausted to stumble out.
Maybe we’re waiting for better
relationships or jobs,
for prodigal sons
to return home,
for a pandemic to pass,
for postponed promises
to be fulfilled.
We certainly can get restless
waiting for that baby Jesus
to bring renewed
joy to the world.

However, we can
prepare our hearts
while we wait,
reminding ourselves
that with absolute certainty
light annihilates the darkness,
love conquers hate,
and Truth routinely
vanquishes error.
We can learn to wait well
by being patient and kind,
cleaned-up and well-stocked,
willing and receptive,
generous and gracious
and by undergoing
whatever transpires
with faithfulness intact.

Meanwhile, the wait
can feel interminable,
almost unbearable,
when like this year,
it is so excruciatingly raw.
But take heart,
the darkest night
is before the dawn.
Don’t give up waiting now;
we are so close.
Soon a weary world
will rejoice.
There will be
a cease fire and singing,
twinkle lights and feasting.
Pour in courage
for this home stretch
and don’t allow the wait
to be hollow or empty.
Fill it with expectancy
spurring you forward
toward the best gift
and brightest hope ever.
The light of the world is coming,
which cannot possibly let you down.