December 2
by David Vilches
We recently visited Disney in Japan. I went with my wife, Ruth, my daughter, Eliana, and my son, Santiago. It was a challenging yet beautiful trip. Like any theme park, we spent much of our time standing in seemingly endless lines. Eliana’s first ride was the spinning, soaring Dumbo, which lasted only about a minute after an hour of waiting. This trip reinforced something I already knew: I do not enjoy waiting.
But Advent is about waiting.
This season draws us into the presence of Elizabeth and Mary, inviting us to feel the baby John leaping in his mother’s womb, with no certainty about when labor pains will start. This pregnant moment signals months of nausea, sleepless nights, and silent prayers, leading to the inbreaking of heaven — a child coming forth from water and blood, to cold baths and warm arms, from darkness to light. He is welcomed with snuggles, kisses, and tears as he is cradled at his mother’s breast. The season awakens us to joyful anticipation, with two weary, wounded families just like ours.
But Advent is about waiting.
The season beckons us to the coming of a baby. It may seem odd to wait for a baby who must then grow, bringing with it even more waiting. But what’s even more peculiar is that around this baby’s second birthday, Mary and Joseph fled like refugees to Egypt. They couldn’t return to “O Little Town of Bethlehem” with baby Jesus. Instead, after being warned by an angel, they migrate north to “O, what good can come from there” Galilee, with toddler Jesus in tow, stirring up even more anticipation.
But Advent is about waiting...
Jesus waited too. While in Galilee, when asked, “Where are you from?” he could have said many things, like
“It’s complicated” or “In the beginning, I...” Yet, he waited even after his birth to reveal himself fully. His people had been without a prophet for 400 years before his arrival, but it took only three years for them to cry out, “Crucify Him, Crucify Him,” as they nailed him to the cross in their impatience, only to wait for another savior. Like them, we often dislike waiting, but this season teaches us to bend our knees to the one who waited through the very act of waiting itself, with eyes and ears attuned to his guidance in the present.
Now, in Advent, we wait — not for the baby Jesus, but for King Jesus to come and make all things new. We wait for Christ’s second Advent when, as Revelation 21 promises,“ He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things
have passed away…. Behold, I am making all things new.”
So let us wait, in joy and sorrow, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in
this present moment for our Lord, who, even in his waiting, is making all things new.
We recently visited Disney in Japan. I went with my wife, Ruth, my daughter, Eliana, and my son, Santiago. It was a challenging yet beautiful trip. Like any theme park, we spent much of our time standing in seemingly endless lines. Eliana’s first ride was the spinning, soaring Dumbo, which lasted only about a minute after an hour of waiting. This trip reinforced something I already knew: I do not enjoy waiting.
But Advent is about waiting.
This season draws us into the presence of Elizabeth and Mary, inviting us to feel the baby John leaping in his mother’s womb, with no certainty about when labor pains will start. This pregnant moment signals months of nausea, sleepless nights, and silent prayers, leading to the inbreaking of heaven — a child coming forth from water and blood, to cold baths and warm arms, from darkness to light. He is welcomed with snuggles, kisses, and tears as he is cradled at his mother’s breast. The season awakens us to joyful anticipation, with two weary, wounded families just like ours.
But Advent is about waiting.
The season beckons us to the coming of a baby. It may seem odd to wait for a baby who must then grow, bringing with it even more waiting. But what’s even more peculiar is that around this baby’s second birthday, Mary and Joseph fled like refugees to Egypt. They couldn’t return to “O Little Town of Bethlehem” with baby Jesus. Instead, after being warned by an angel, they migrate north to “O, what good can come from there” Galilee, with toddler Jesus in tow, stirring up even more anticipation.
But Advent is about waiting...
Jesus waited too. While in Galilee, when asked, “Where are you from?” he could have said many things, like
“It’s complicated” or “In the beginning, I...” Yet, he waited even after his birth to reveal himself fully. His people had been without a prophet for 400 years before his arrival, but it took only three years for them to cry out, “Crucify Him, Crucify Him,” as they nailed him to the cross in their impatience, only to wait for another savior. Like them, we often dislike waiting, but this season teaches us to bend our knees to the one who waited through the very act of waiting itself, with eyes and ears attuned to his guidance in the present.
Now, in Advent, we wait — not for the baby Jesus, but for King Jesus to come and make all things new. We wait for Christ’s second Advent when, as Revelation 21 promises,“ He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things
have passed away…. Behold, I am making all things new.”
So let us wait, in joy and sorrow, in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in
this present moment for our Lord, who, even in his waiting, is making all things new.