O Come, O Come, Immanuel

It's my turn to blog this week, and I'm sitting in an empty office trying to come up with a topic. Ordinarily I don't mind writing, but in the midst of this chaotic time of year (my foreign policy class is currently taking over my life, for example), it seems almost impossible to step back, take a deep breath, and look around for the signs of peace and holiness and goodness around us. I'm too busy frantically researching Clinton-era intervention in the Balkans, thank you very much.

But it strikes me as ironic that I'm behaving this way at the beginning of Advent. After all, Advent is the time of year where we pause to notice signs of hope--where we wait in eager expectation for the coming promise, our anticipation growing with each passing day on the Advent calendar and each week's newly-lighted candle in the Advent wreath. Unlike Lent, we don't fast during Advent. We carry on in our daily routines, busily finishing homework and papers, decorating for Christmas and baking cookies, watching the snow start to fall and the world gradually turn to winter. We carry on, busy and bustling, in eager anticipation of the coming gift.

Last year at this time I was in Romania. My Advent celebration was different there--the anticipation of Christmas was mixed with excitement about returning to the States and the relationships I had left there. It was a season of building anticipation mingled with deep sadness--a reluctance to leave behind new relationships, a sorrow over leaving the mountains, tastes, smells, and sounds that had grown so dear over four months. Bubbling anticipation and joy mixed with the weight of sorrow, bustling attention to the little details of daily life amidst preparation for a monumental shift in my world--this seems to always be the paradox of Advent.

I suppose I could make the obvious tie-in to our work at the Service-Learning Center here, and I might do that in a moment. But I think the first thing I need to remind myself of is Advent itself, this beautiful time of waiting and anticipation. Life doesn't stop as we wait for the coming of the Messiah. It continues on, buoyed by this hope, this welling-up of excitement, that the promise will be fulfilled! The Kingdom of God is coming, and all will be made well. Jesus will save and the world will be restored! Whoa.

Advent gives me goosebumps. It gives me this thrilled assurance and peace that amidst the chaos, there is hope. And the promise extends to everything--to our work at the Service-Learning Center, to our prayers for peace in places of war, to our hopes of reconciliation in neighborhoods and families full of brokenness. The Messiah has come, and is coming again. He will make everything new! What a wonderful promise. May He come again soon.

So may you live this Advent fully--with this anticipation and assurance amidst the busyness that Immanuel is coming, and coming soon.

~Kelly