My Advent Season
I’m in the weeds again, buried deep, analyzing the soil, searching all the cracks and turns of the bark.
I literally can’t see the forest for the trees.
All the while I cry out for the Lord to give me a glimpse into the beautiful expanse of the forest, but it’s me who hangs my head, lowers my eyes, refusing to look up, up, up and out.
I’ve made it the ugly theme of the year, partly intentionally, partly unintentionally.
It wasn’t until I really started pressing into the Advent season and listening to the voices of wisdom around me as they spoke about waiting and expectancy that I realized I had gotten it all wrong.
For almost a year now, I’ve been waiting (waiting and wondering, wondering and waiting), but it’s been all the wrong kinds of waiting with heavy doses of sadness and disappointment mixed in.
I confess, I haven’t been waiting expectantly for God to deliver me, rather I have been waiting anxiously for me to deliver myself, to stumble upon the answer, to discover the path, all on my own, in my own strength, with my own wisdom.
Funny how the answer/path/deliverance/next step never showed.
So right now, in this season of Advent, I am taking the small (yet difficult) steps in learning how to wait expectantly, not only with hope, but with promise—just as the Israelites waited with expectation for the fulfillment of the promise that guaranteed the coming of the Messiah.
Because for too long, I’ve had it too wrong. And oh my, being wrong is exhausting.
A verse I reference continually is this, from Psalm 27:13: "Yet I am confident I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am in the land of the living."
In the land of the living! Here on earth! The goodness of God WILL come through and WILL rescue and provide here on earth!
So my Lord, I will wait on You.
For the glimpse of heaven You have given through Your Son, for the evidence of Your provision through Your Son, I will wait on You. And I wait not as one without hope, but as one who has been given insight—one who has been given a promise of deliverance.