Third Sunday in Advent

Isaiah 35:1-10; Psalm 146:4-9 (5-10 in NRSV); James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11

We are halfway through Advent.  Or I should say, Advent season is half over, wherever you are in your Advent journey.  Some of us may not have started.  Others may be running toward Christmas, listening to Christmas music and shopping and baking and partying.  In the secular world, this is the season of Christmas.  It ends on December 26 with the sales, or maybe on New Year's Day.  But here, in our homes and churches, we await the Coming One.

Sitting in prison, John asks of Jesus, are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?  Jesus invites John's disciples to look around and make their own determination.  He invites us to do the same.  All week we've been in this conversation about what we see and why we see it (or don't).  What we see, and hear, says as much about us as it does about the world around us.

John receives these reports in his prison.  His own small world is painful and ugly, but he hears of wonders beyond his world.  We don't hear what he decides about Jesus.  That's a blessing, I think: rather than being a story about John, this is a chance for us to ask ourselves what we decide.  Sitting in my own darkness, hearing reports of hope and healing, where do I put my trust?  

In fact, my situation is quite the opposite of John's.  My small world is filled with abundance and love.  I am supported beyond my wildest dreams.  But just beyond my door there are people who are hungry, people who are living on the streets, people who are violated and exploited.  Sitting in my small pool of light, where do I put my trust?  I oscillate between self-sufficiency and despair.  Both poles reveal my lack of trust in God.  

Times of endurance and patience call us back to God, to that decision point.  Where do I put my trust?  In what, in whom, will I believe?  Changes in the United States make this question particularly pressing.  Now I oscillate between terror and a certain expectancy, as I wait to see what I will become, who I will choose to be, whether I will be a faithful witness to the light.  Being a witness means honing my patience and my endurance.  Patience teaches me things that cannot be learned by easy success.  Endurance brings hope, and finally leads to joy beyond any particular delight.  This is not a situation I would have chosen, but few of my times of spiritual growth have been chosen.  That's not how it happens.  It happens by letting go into what we are confronted with, reaching out for God in the darkness.  

We're halfway through Advent.  Where are you?