Christmas is coming! But guess what? Advent is here. That’s right; the season of waiting, preparation and anticipation is right here, right now. So, hurry up – and wait.

Christians from many backgrounds reflect on the themes of hope, peace, joy and love during the weeks of Advent that lead us to Christmas. Perhaps, like me, you have a practice of busting out an Advent wreath with four candles that represent these “pillars” of the season. 

The Latin word for Advent, “adventus,” means “coming,” and the Gospel text for this week (Matthew 13:24-37) emphasizes the importance of “staying awake” for Christ’s return. So it feels appropriate to start this time of waiting and anticipation by lighting the first candle for hope – appropriate, yes, but also, at times, really freaking hard.   

Hope is one of those things that can feel dreadfully passive and painstakingly ineffective, like an aimless optimism. It can seem like you’re just waiting around when all you want to do is fix, improve, speed up or do something. 

Americans typically don’t like to wait around, plus we’re constantly given the message that anything can be dealt with if we just buy the right thing, see the right specialist, or put in enough work – now.

I will be the first to confess that I often struggle with hope. I would much rather jump ahead to the weeks of peace, joy and love in the Advent season.  

So, what is it that makes hope so challenging in our lives? I think it’s more than just the waiting game.

Among the four pillars of Advent, hope is the only one we ever talk about “losing.” The calm of peace, the bliss of joy, and the warmth of love can come and go, but we never consider them “lost” if they aren’t at the forefront of our being. 

We rejoice at their proximity, and there’s a contentedness with the ebb and flow with which we experience them. 

On the other hand, hope is often portrayed as an anchor that gives us a sense of security when we have it and abandonment when we don’t. 

When cut off, a lost hope leads to separation, isolation and despair for a future unknown:

“I will never recover from this.”

“That relationship is over.” 

“The war will keep going.” 

“We are a broken people.” 

In Mark’s Gospel, there is a promise of Christ’s return, but we also hear an apocalyptic vision of darkness and great suffering to take place beforehand.

A lost hope can make waiting unbearable and living feel futile. 

But what if hope is never lost? What if it is an anchor with a line that feels tight and taut, right next to our hearts, and also a line that sometimes goes slack, with God holding fast through it all?

If Advent is a time for waiting, preparation and anticipation, how can hope anchor us for the imminent birth of a Savior, a story for which we already know the ending, and also the imminent return of Christ, with an unknown timeline? 

It might feel strange to hear Mark speaking of the end times right at the beginning of Advent when we await the birth of Jesus. But his message reminds us that Advent hope is for the here and now, not just the historical narrative that took place thousands of years ago.

Theologian Kate Bowler talks about God throwing out this anchor of hope and reeling us toward a future of beauty and restoration.

Hope is the connection with God that sustains us in the unknown – today. There are times when we are mindful of it, when we hold tight or use it with great intention. And there are times when we feel adrift and far from God, but our connection – our hope – is never lost.

Just as the family from the little town of Bethlehem, as well as all the people from Jerusalem, Judea and the ends of the earth, were pulled into a future with hope, we too are tethered to the Holy One who never leaves us unmoored. 

As Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “[Jesus] will strengthen you to the end.” 

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