This year, Advent has been a painful reminder of all that is not right.
Advent. Those days leading up to Christmas, a time to dwell on what is coming.
As a child, it was mostly about waiting. Making a paper chain and counting down the days till Christmas morning, waiting for family and cookies and presents.
It is a time of waiting, a time of preparation. Looking once again at our hearts and minds and turning once again to the cross, and to the manger. It is a time to celebrate the birth, the coming of Christ.
This year, I’ve been looking more to the coming of Christ again. The coming of a new heaven and a new earth.
It’s hard not to, when this earth is so obviously, painfully broken.
We spend Advent in waiting, waiting for the birth of a baby who has already come, come to set the world right, come to heal the brokenhearted and bind up the wounded, come to make all things new, and yet the brokenhearted still cry and the wounds are still fresh and nothing seems new and the world is so, so far from right.
This world just keeps breaking. Just keeps falling apart.
I’m waiting, waiting for the infant in the manger who would set all things right, who came to bring life.
And I’m caught between the struggle of the now and the not-yet, between the coming of a baby who was born to die to save us all and the coming of a King who will truly make all things new.
But here we are, stuck in the in-between, and it is so beautiful and yet so painful.
So here I am, loving this world out of a broken heart, and praying through tears for mercy, for grace, for that baby in a manger to set all things right.