What Are You Waiting For?
By Julie Hawkins, Pastor of Ministry
The day after Thanksgiving always feels like a crossroads. Half of us are still in a turkey haze, grazing through Tupperware full of leftovers. The other half are already hauling boxes of Christmas decor out of the garage, decking halls like it’s our job. Half of us are hesitant to trade in our Pumpkin Spice for our Peppermint Mocha. And in the middle of all that bustle, Advent begins.
Advent is the season the church has always set aside for waiting. Not passive waiting. Not wishful thinking. But the kind of watchful hope that leans forward. We remember the night when Christ first came near, and we look ahead with the same expectation that he will come again. Advent teaches us how to wait well. With honesty. With hope. With anticipation for celebration. With our eyes wide open. We wait.
Which brings me to a simple question.
What are you waiting for?
Maybe you hear that question with a little edge to it. The exasperated version. The way a parent says it when the kids are putting their shoes on at the speed of a gentle glacier. What are you waiting for? Come on. Let’s go. The world around us shouts this version all the time. Do more. Achieve more. Buy more. Hurry up. Keep up. Don’t fall behind. The faster we go, the faster we’ll get there.
Advent can feel like one more thing on the list, or one more thing to rush through. Light some candles. Make the memories. Cue the Christmas Carols. Everyone smile for the photo! What are you waiting for? Hurry up! It’s almost Christmas!
But there is another way to hear it. A tender way. A God way.
What are you waiting for? What are you longing for?
What ache sits in your chest this time of year? What hope keeps you lifting your eyes, even when you’re tired? Advent has always been for the tired waiters. The people who wonder if God remembers. The ones who know their own limits. The ones who feel the heaviness beneath the sparkle.
The first Advent was an answer to a world full of both kinds of waiting. People desperate for God to move faster. And people quietly praying that God would move at all.
Into that mix came Jesus.
Not rushed.
Not late.
But wonderfully right on time.
This week, over coffee with a friend, I found myself trying to describe how this season feels like a strange blend of celebration and grief. My mom died in the middle of December when I was a junior in high school. Thanksgiving was the last holiday I had with her, and I still spend it with her side of the family. So, Advent always carries a trace of sorrow for me, the ache of losing someone during what’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year.
But it’s also full of memories of her joy…the way she danced to “The Twelve Days of Christmas” in the world’s ugliest sweater and made the season bright.
As I talked with my friend, I realized that this mixture is its own picture of Advent. It draws me into longing for what was and what is yet to come, even as I celebrate what has already arrived and what I still look forward to. Because Advent reminds me that Christ has come into our brokenness, that he is coming again to make all things new, and that right now he is with us in the in-between, where grief and joy sit at the same table.
So here is the invitation of Advent on this Thanksgiving weekend. Even as the calendar fills and the days speed up. Even as we sprint into a season meant for wonder. Pause and ask the question in both directions.
Where is your soul craving the gentle, hopeful version of What are you waiting for?
Where do you feel the pushy, hurried version of What are you waiting for?
And what if Jesus is the answer to both?
He is the one who tells the frantic heart to rest…and the weary heart to hope. He is the one who steps into our waiting and fills it with his presence.
As we light the first candle of Advent this weekend, may you feel both the comfort and the call. Not the pressure to hurry. Not the burden to perform. But the steady reminder that the Savior we’re waiting for has already come close. And he will come again.
So friends…what are you waiting for?
Lean in. Look up and around. He is near.
Pastor Julie