
And even in this darkest of years, this hardest of years, this loneliest of years, the Hope of advent still comes. And I feel almost giddy that I feel that same hushed twinkle in my heart that I feel every advent. Because I’ve had a really hard year and somewhere in my heart, I worried that the never-ceasing Hope of advent wouldn’t come for me this year.
In a year full of doubts, His advent hope has been steadfast.
In a year full of loneliness, His advent hope has been Emmanuel, always with us.
In a year full of losses, His advent hope has filled the deep spaces.
In a year full of anxiety, His advent hope has been the peace that holds my heart together.
And today, on this first advent Sunday, I’m almost giddy with the relief that His promises have held true. That His faithfulness does endure forever. That He is the forever burning bright Star of hope. I’m giddy that in the midst of my overwhelm, His still quiet voice is a tiny ember in my heart, holding it steady and preparing room in it. I’m giddy that what I thought was just an emptying of me was really a making space for the glory of advent.
And that this year, more than any other, I feel the deep, deep longing of the Israelites. The aching loneliness. The heaviness. And now I realize that this longing is what drives us to the manger, pushes us on our knees, forces us to lift tired hands to the night sky looking for signs of His coming. And in the dark night of this December, we can feel our hearts stirring, feel the tiny ember we’ve been clinging to turning into the sparkling bright excitement of advent. And we can know this Hope eternal. The hope that never ceases no matter what our hearts are going through. No matter what losses we’ve endured. No matter what we face this year. And we can sing out with the angels, that yes, even in this darkest of times and most unlikely of circumstances, the Lord has come! And our still burning hearts can receive the King. A thrill of hope. The weary world rejoices. Advent.
