Reflection—v.1, ‘…the mountains would quake at your presence’
Sometimes I think we want Advent to be ‘Hollywood’—big and loud and full of drama and spectacle. Maybe in a way, we figure it has to be in order to compete with all the flash and glitz of the winter holiday season. We are not alone in this, as Isaiah’s vision of God’s Big Entrance shows. Though not without drama, Advent is more hidden, more intimate–just plain smaller in every way–than we would have it. It’s more indie film than Summer blockbuster, you could say. Sure, there may be choirs of angels singing, but they serenade poor shepherds after everyone else has gone to sleep. There may be a guiding star, but only a few wise strangers think it worth following. The Savior of the world may be born, but he is just one homeless child among many, and we have no room for him anyhow. Advent is a child growing in a mother’s womb—awe-inspiring, yes, but in a more personal, less earth-shattering way (even if it is the virgin birth). Let us be open—not for the kind of Advent we think we want but for the kind we need.
Prayer God of great love in small things, let me welcome you in the way you choose to come to us.