I love how the world slows each December. It is almost like life is on pause as we wrap gifts and gather with family. Of course, our problems do not simply disappear. Pain is just as relevant, for some, even more so.
Yet, there is a simple beauty in the season, a kind that only seems to come around once a year. Because for one month, we don’t wish away the waiting. We embrace it. And I have to wonder how that response could change the rest of the year.
The truth is, much of my waiting is hurried and impatient. Unlike Christmas time, I do not treasure the days leading up to change. I often refuse to fully embrace life until my waiting has ended, praying for big miracles and overlooking the small ones. Every month except for December.
Advent has always held a special place in my heart, and I believe that’s because I find what I’ve missed all year long. Hope in waiting.
The word advent literally means “coming”—a season to prepare our hearts as we reflect on our Savior. We imagine what it was like to wait for the coming Messiah, reflecting on the prophecies of old, even as we read of His soon return. Yes, He is coming again.
And if every day were a day in December, that would make our whole year a season of preparation for His return. A season of hopeful waiting. A celebration of what has been and what is to come.
The rest of the year truly could be the same. Because Jesus redeems our waiting. Just as He came, fulfilling our longings for a Redeemer, so will He come once more. Whether on earth or in his presence, we will see His goodness.
See, waiting is hopeful, because we hold the promise of His presence, that wherever we are, He meets us there.
I want the rest of the year to shadow December. I want the same contentment, the same hope, to wrap my longing. Yes, I want the hope back in my waiting.