Just recently, I read a story about a man who suddenly remembered a friend of his who was in the hospital. He hadn’t seen the man in a while, and yet, he felt compelled to go and visit his friend. When he got to the hospital, he asked for his friend by name, and was told that he would likely be in the swimming pool area, where the hospital provided physical therapy. Sure enough, when he got there, his friend was on the other side, near the deep end of the pool, sitting in his wheelchair. He called out to his friend, and the two had a very nice visit. Months later, this man found out from his friend that he had been sitting there near the pool because he was despondent and in despair, and was considering maneuvering his wheelchair into the water when this man had arrived. This perfectly timed arrival, he said, gave him hope. Hope for the future.
Hope is one of those emotions that really speaks to the expectation that we feel when we come into the Advent Season. Advent has always been about preparing ourselves for the coming of Christ in the form of a child. In Advent, we prepare our hearts for the coming of God in human form, providing for the salvation of the whole world. In Advent, we prepare our hearts to accept God with us, God as one of us, God among us. And we live in expectation and anticipation of that joyous moment.
Think of that first Advent, and think of the expectation and the hope that people had as they awaited the Messiah that had been prophesied to come. Think of the expectation and anticipation they lived with as they hoped for God’s hand to make itself manifest in this world.
That prophecy had been a long time coming, and for some of them, they may have lost hope. Which is similar to where we may find ourselves at this point. For those of us that live in a world where the Christ Child has already been born, our hope is in Christ’s coming again in Glory with all the angels. We await the salvation of the world as Christ comes again to make all things new, to bring all nations into his fold, and to reconcile the world to God, once and for all. And just like the original prophecy, it has been a long time coming, and so some of us may have lost hope.
This is the dual purpose of Advent: to remind ourselves of the anticipation the people had for the coming of the Christ Child, and to remind ourselves to prepare our hearts for the second coming of the Christ, so that we “may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints” (1 Thess. 3:13).
We attempt to provide that feeling of hope and anticipation – the first purpose of Advent – by building up excitement for the presents and gifts we give to one another at Christmas. The difficulty we often run into, however, is that we forget the second purpose of Advent – to prepare ourselves for Christ’s return – by focusing too much on the first purpose, that of the God in the manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, receiving gifts from foreign kings.
How exactly do we build anticipation for Christ coming again? How do we build hope and anticipation in something that so many people consider to be a fiction, a pipe dream, or at the very least, something that will never happen in their own lifetime?
Years ago, one of the priests I knew, preached a Christmas sermon on this very topic of Advent having a dual purpose of anticipation of Christ with us – Immanuel – and the hope of Christ’s coming again. And his words have stuck with me ever since. In this sermon he told us that “the second coming of Christ is not so much something that happens to us, but something that happens through us.” I’m going to repeat that. “The second coming of Christ is not so much something that happens to us, but something that happens through us.” The anticipation of Christ’s coming again, is not just about the far off future, a long awaited majestic event, and our entry into the heavenly kingdom to accept our inheritance as children of God. Instead it is about the hope for a better world in the here and the now. The anticipation of Christ’s coming again is about Christ being made manifest through you, through me, through all of us. It is about becoming the hands and feet of Christ in this world and bringing hope.
Today’s passage from 1 Thessalonians gives us a pointer for how we become these agents of hope for the world around us. Paul writes that he and others are praying for the people of Thessaloniki, and he blesses them, saying “may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all… may God so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints.”
These blessings are two sides of the same coin. As we increase and abound in love for one another and for all, our hearts also become strengthened in holiness. This is because the only way to increase in love is to draw closer to God and allow ourselves to experience the Love of God as adopted and beloved Children. And in order to draw closer to God, we must allow God to soften our hearts; it seems counterintuitive, but to allow God to soften our hearts is what makes them stronger; hard hearts might seem powerful, but the softest hearts are the strongest. If you need an example, think of the hardening of arteries. Those hearts and arteries that have experienced hardness have elevated risks of damage and possibly even death. And it is the same with hearts that have been hardened against the love of God, and therefore the love of others. Those hardened hearts are at risk of spiritual death.
The spiritual life has been defined as a divine dance, because as we draw closer to God, we find that those elements within ourselves that need burning, refining, and purifying. And it can be painful. So we step back and away from God, to avoid that inner churning. But then the Love of God calls and beckons us again, and we draw closer, ever closer, performing this intricate dance of nearness and pulling away, until our hearts grow soft, and our hearts grow strong.
It is only with a soft heart that we are able to enter into the presence of Divine Love, where we are shaped and molded ever more into the image of the one who made us. And when we become more and more like the one who made us, we discover more and more that God’s will becomes our will, and we find that the mindset that was in Christ Jesus has become the mindset that is in us. We begin to hear the Holy Spirit when prompted, and we begin to do and to act on even the most unusual prodding, because we hope with the same hope that Christ had for the salvation of the world. And it is then that we come to expect miracles with God, because we no longer consider them miracles, but understand them simply as the movement and inner workings of the hands and feet of God, in God’s beloved world.
I began today with a story of a divine appointment, in which someone managed to arrive at just the right time to provide hope to his friend. I’m sure many of you have heard similar stories of divine timing. Perhaps you’ve heard the story about a locksmith who felt the urge, despite being late for an appointment, to take a detour from his usual route and happened upon a young mother who had locked her keys inside a car – with the baby still inside. This man decided not to be weighed down with, as the Gospel puts it, “the worries of this life,” but instead decided to follow his heart, to allow the Spirit to speak to him, despite his pressing appointments, and to allow the Spirit to shape his response. And in that moment that he helped a young mother rescue her child from the car, he became the hands and feet of Christ, he became an agent of hope, and Christ was made manifest in this world through this man’s hands and feet, in unity with the Holy Spirit.
As we enter into this Advent season, we ought to ask ourselves: will we allow ourselves to enter into this divine dance of preparation and will we allow our hearts to be softened and strengthened and molded into the image of the author of all hope?
“The second coming of Christ is not so much something that happens to us, but something that happens through us.”
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on December 1, 2024.]
