I want to write of Advent again, of Christmas, of the taste of the wonder of the season in front of us. I find my mind blank of content, feeling like I’ve said it all before. Maybe I have, maybe this blog is too full of thoughts of Advent and coming again. Year after year I mark this season, I express my love of it and year after year we wait. We wait and we hope and we wait some more. The first coming assures the second coming and yet in this in-between space there is silence.
The silence feels very loud this year. The world a broken bleeding place. Having children has ripped my heart out. Things on the news that I could ignore before suddenly seem incredibly real and close to home for some reason. Everyone out there is someone’s son, daughter, mother, father, child. Everyone is a person, unique, with unique thoughts, profound and profane. The world is full of people like you and me trying to get through our days, experiencing a vast, vast, difference in what those days look like. I cannot even begin to comprehend what life is like for most people in this world and sometimes I do not want to.
The silence is loud and the darkness is dark. This Advent I am feeling that silence more than ever. On Wednesday night in our small group we sat in silence for 15 minutes. Silence to mark the absence before we start to taste the presence of the One who stepped into this broken world to bring healing. It felt right to stop our talking, stop our busy, stop our noise and taste the silence that we long to be shattered with the clear bright call of joy.
It’s Advent and this year I think I’m going to wait a little while longer to put the decorations up, I think I’m going to sit here with this silence a little longer than usual and hope to be met in it with the silent presence of Immanuel. Silent but not absent.