Nov 28, 2021 |
Why Wait?
| The Rev. Melanie W. J. SlaneWhy Wait?
Why wait? I mean really, why wait? I saw a six-foot-tall
statue of Santa Claus, all decked out in crushed red velvet and a bell encrusted
cap before Halloween. We don't want to wait. Waiting
makes us uncomfortable. And I don't know why, but for some reason, right around
this time of year, we all revert to our toddler brain where we've got to have
it right now. Not in two minutes right now. I mean, why would I wait for my
groceries to be delivered in more than two hours when Amazon can do that for me?
Waiting has always been uncomfortable for people and waiting in an age of
instant gratification, well, that is almost unbearable.
Our reading for today asks us to lean into that discomfort. To embrace the Advent of the present age to sit in the discomfort and chaos and mess and see that the thing we are waiting for is already here. The Gospel lesson that we hear this morning positions us perfectly in a place of waiting that we don't want to be in. We don't want to be there in the fear and confusion and distress. The end of the world as we know it? The sea is roaring, the heavens are shaking, and I don't know about you, but the whole thing is so overwhelming. I'd rather just be unconscious for the whole ordeal. Apocalypse? No thanks. Armageddon? Come again? No, I'll take that little, tiny baby wrapped up like a burrito with all those little animals around and angels singing Silent Night. While stars glimmer in the sky shooting to and fro, Is Jesus here yet? Is it Christmas? Can we get it on the road?
Our reading for today asks us to lean into that discomfort. To embrace the Advent of the present age to sit in the discomfort and chaos and mess and see that the thing we are waiting for is already here. The Gospel lesson that we hear this morning positions us perfectly in a place of waiting that we don't want to be in. We don't want to be there in the fear and confusion and distress. The end of the world as we know it? The sea is roaring, the heavens are shaking, and I don't know about you, but the whole thing is so overwhelming. I'd rather just be unconscious for the whole ordeal. Apocalypse? No thanks. Armageddon? Come again? No, I'll take that little, tiny baby wrapped up like a burrito with all those little animals around and angels singing Silent Night. While stars glimmer in the sky shooting to and fro, Is Jesus here yet? Is it Christmas? Can we get it on the road?