It was the first Sunday of Advent. My hospital chapel message was 10 minutes of editing from ready. And we canceled the service so I could drive to another hospital and visit with two families facing the last few hours of their loved one’s life.
In our conversations, it made sense to talk about looking back at the first coming of Jesus and looking ahead to the second. It made sense to think about God welcoming their loved one as a coming of sorts. Not Jesus coming to everyone, but of them going to Jesus.
It was helpful to think about. It was a little hopeful.
Later, I sat with a guy talking about the words of Jesus to keep watch. I said it wasn’t like worrying about whether what we were doing was going to measure up when we saw Jesus. It was more like sitting in a hospital room unable to do anything, and looking out the window at the gray Indiana Sunday afternoon sky, and then enjoying our conversation.
As we each leaned into conversation and away from expectations, it was a little hopeful.
Earlier in the week, I thought about how to nourish hope when we tend to, or I tend to, nourish resignation (things are going to fall apart) and dread (things will really fall apart) and fear (I’m not going to be able to do what I need to).
One writer talks about looking at Jesus who is the author and completer of our faith. Which means, perhaps, looking less at how the story is going. Even in these rooms. In the season of Advent, in the week of hope, the invitation is to remember that we are looking forward to a who, not a what. To reflect on who is present and working.
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Here are the other posts for the first week of Advent on hope.
300 words a day 