The Season of Waiting

We're about halfway through Advent, the four weeks prior to Christmas. Ah, Advent. That special time of the year when pastors give sermons about waiting.

This week I attended a Lutheran church with a friend of mine. The service was chock full of liturgy and I didn't expect to get much out of it. The pastor wore a robe and used official words like, "transubstantiation" and "synod". I had a vague understanding, and tried to pay attention. I was raised Methodist/Catholic so I'm familiar with congressional response and making the sign of the cross. Thankfully, in this service, we were provided an order of service so we could follow along. So I spent my time trying not to mess up all the motions.

We sang several songs I'd never heard before, all in a minor key. We stood up and sat down at the instruction of a lay minister. Seriously, they had three ministers. One prayed, one preached, and one directed us to rise and sit. All this high-church ceremony was starting to get on my nerves and I was relieved to sit down for the sermon.

"Advent is the season in our church calendar during which we celebrate waiting for the birth of our Lord," began one of the ministers. "We live in a culture of instantaneous gratification. We no longer have to wait for anything. The only thing we still have to wait for is a baby. They still take 9 months, right?"

Oh boy, thank you for the lame joke and for rubbing it in that everyone else in the congregation is married and well established in their careers. This took me back to my days in youth group, when my youth pastor, Rob, only used sports metaphors to explain things. I have never played sports outside of gym class, and even then it was with wild reluctance. I always felt that no one understood the level I was on; that the message wasn't meant to apply to me.

I tried to think about this sermon positively. It was good that the minister was acknowledging that waiting is hard. It was good that he brought up a universal event for which all must wait. What should I expect from a church in Greenwood where the youngest adult is 35?

The minister went on to talk about Israel waiting for thousands of years for the Messiah. He cited the familiar passage in Isaiah about "a voice crying in the wilderness" and then tied it in with the Gospel interpretation of John the Baptist. Then he said something interesting.

"John was not at all what Israel expected. He was crazy and homeless and he used inflammatory language. But they were so ready for the Messiah that his followers thought he was the Messiah. That's why he says, 'I am not even fit to untie his sandals,'. He has to convince them that he's just the opening act."

I've had a lot of opening acts in my life. I know I still haven't gotten to the headliner, but because I haven't seen the show yet, I'm not sure what it looks like. I am Israel. I am so weary of waiting that I am ready to accept the next decent thing that comes along. I know in my heart that I need to hang on, but I'm so tired.

That's why I tend to jump into things with both feet.  I think, "ok, maybe this will be it!"  I feel like I do this with whatever project comes along.  Theatre in high school, Mentor Moms in college, several of my relationships, then my current job...it's getting exhausting.  I'm just so ready to find the places where I fit perfectly; to know exactly where I belong.

I guess I'm glad that we have a season during which this waiting problem is addressed. The rest of the year no one really brings it up. It's good to hear something other than "sports metaphores", at least for a season.