It’s Advent. Not that I’ve really noticed yet. I like Advent. I like the usual sense of anticipation, of looking forward, of pause. But this year Advent is rushing past. Life is busy. There’s work to be done, essays to be written and sermons too. Time seems to be hurtling on towards Christmas.
I wonder if that’s how it was for Mary and Joseph. They must have been looking forward to the birth. Getting excited. Getting things ready in the way that you do when a child is expected. My sister is expecting her 3rd child around Christmas. She’s been painting and getting things ready.
But then Mary and Joseph had to go. At the last minute they had to up sticks and head to Bethlehem. No time for arrangements to be made, no room to organise, no nursery toys, baby grows and bibs. Just a rush to get there.
And yet Advent is the time of waiting. Waiting to me suggests a pause. A nothingness waiting for something to happen to fill the void. I wonder what happens when the void is already full of busyness? Does the thing awaited still happen? Does it still have the same impact? Will anyone notice?
I’m looking forward to Sunday. I’m leading worship at Dunfermline. I’ve decided I like the discipline of preparing worship. It’s good for me. I learn and it slows me down a little and gives me things to ponder. Perhaps once Sunday comes and the busyness slows a little I might have time to stop, and be still, and wait…