Years and years ago, advent came as a long season, generations of waiting and hoping for someone to rescue and repair brokenness.
But in those long and hard years, I imagine there was some anger and some grief, a little hope lost along the way but still held onto in the end.
This Advent feels different for me, as I watch the world, even the world of the church I’ve always known, show itself through different hues. I take the stories I’ve learned as a child mixed with the beautiful stories of my ancestors and other indigenous, stories of who Jesus has always been.
So I see the trajectory of the Christ-child, but the one who is for all people in all places, and not just the one we’ve revered in the white western church.
And I feel the dissonance of our political climate, something I know is foreign to the hope I hold.
So this Advent, I need Jesus to be everything that he is and nothing that I’ve always imagined him to be.
The miracle of Christ is that he was born once and died once only to live again, and in his living there is always new grace, fresh shalom, a constant journeying into the spirit and heart of God and of God-Made-Flesh-and-Bone.
All those years of waiting had to be painful, but they were needed.
And today, we wait again, and it’s painful, and it’s needed. Our reality must be met with hope, met with peace and love and joy and grace, or the journey becomes blurred or forsaken altogether.
Our world hurts, from the dug up rivers and their protectors to the children of Syria to the oppressed in every corner, even those in our backyard. So Advent becomes an aching and painful grasp onto the chance at things being made new.
If Jesus has the capacity to create renewals of everything in our reality, isn’t it fitting for us to find renewal in our daily journeys?
Let this Advent season mean something different for your journey, and if that means finding the Christ child through your own child eyes, by all means do so.
No journey is wasted, and Advent is all about the long journey to the Christ child and all the journeying after.
But in the meantime, we can’t let our anger or grief dissipate into nothingness, nor do we bury it so deep that it eats away or seeds itself in us as revenge or bitterness.
We take those human feelings and we let them work their way out of us in shalom-ways, in the way of hope, in the way of every good work. That is the way of the peaceful protestor, the way of the rock that stands still and stoic after years and years of rubble around him.
This is the way of Jesus, if the stories ring true, if shalom really is what he intended for it to be.
That is what we hold onto, what Advent gives us as we re-see the Savior child and re-imagine our own journeys of beginning and waiting again.