The word advent means “coming” or “beginning.” It represents a new start. And so, with the beginning of Advent each year, we may find ourselves thinking about how things will be different this year. This year the stress of the season won’t lead to arguments or unhealthy overindulgence; this Advent we will truly sense God’s presence, be mindful of what it’s about; this Advent and Christmas will be happy, peaceful, perfect.
This longing may be a holdover from childhood—or a residual feeling left from years of romantic holiday ads—but the season’s temptations to stress and excess challenge our longing. Advent invites us to wait, slow down, and stay awake to look for the coming of Christ, to open ourselves to receive this perfect gift. The culture around us crams our bodies and senses so full that there’s little room left for the holy family to dwell—no room in our calendars, no room in our minds, no room in our budgets, no room in our bodies. How often do you suppose we metaphorically turn Mary and Joseph away because there’s “no room” in us for them to give birth to the Christ?
A flight attendant once misspoke in giving the standard directions for deplaning saying, “Be careful as you open the overhead bins, as your longings may have shifted during the flight.” Journeys do tend to shift things, and the journey we begin today invites us to shift our longings away from anything that distracts us from what matters most of all. We are invited to be alert instead to the surprising inbreakings of hope, of gentleness, of peace—even in the midst of stress, failure, and struggle. The journey we begin today calls us to direct our longings toward God and the promises for transformation that we receive in Jesus Christ.