It’s an experience many of us have had this past year. For me, the process took about a week. I found the website for my state listing all of the testing centers. Each center had a separate link with different hours of operations and appointments available. It took me about an hour to find a testing center where I could get a test within three days – the soonest available. I drove into the center and as I sat in my car, the technician inserted a swab in my nose. It was quicker and less intrusive than I expected. As I drove away, I wondered if it was done correctly. Then I waited for another five days for the results to arrive: I was negative for COVID-19.
According to reports, more than 86 million COVID-19 tests have been administered in the United States. Many of us have had the test, often wondering if the vague systems we experienced were related to the coronavirus. In my case, I thought I might have been exposed but wasn’t sure. While I thought that my chance of infection was minimal, the waiting kept me on edge.
That’s the thing about waiting: it keeps us a bit on edge, a bit anxious, and wondering what will happen. Even waiting for a bus or train or an appointment, we are often caught up in wanting to know how long it will be. Waiting is uncomfortable for us.
The time of Advent has begun for Christians. It’s an uncomfortable time. The secular celebration of Christmas is already in full swing. I found it distressing to be in a dentist’s chair three weeks ago for a root canal and forced to listen to Christmas music. Seriously: as if the root canal wasn’t bad enough! But Advent, marked by the four Sundays before Christmas, is a time when we are invited to – or challenged to – wait, to be still, to exercise patience while allowing ourselves to experience a deep longing and hope for something new.
The waiting is difficult for us. We want to get to the main event. We don’t have patience, so the waiting tries and tests us. Perhaps that’s a good thing. The waiting of Advent allows us to go deeper into our own experience and pay attention to how we are living. It’s only by creating space, allowing ourselves to slow down, that we can observe our lives: our hopes and dreams, our limitations and shortcomings, the ways we live well, and how we sometimes fall short.
Let’s be honest: we don’t like looking at ourselves in this way. We inevitably see things we don’t like about ourselves and sometimes come face to face with our insecurities. Yet, this self-examination is tied to one of the core messages of Advent, captured in the words of John the Baptist: Prepare a way for our God! Every valley will be lifted and every mountain will be laid low! The rough ways made smooth and the crooked ways made straight! This isn’t about changing geography or topography. Instead, it’s about changing ourselves. That’s what we don’t like. Focusing on becoming better people, well….it takes effort that we’d prefer to avoid. After all, we think, I’m a pretty good person the way that I am.
Advent: it’s a time of preparation. It’s an opportunity. You have a choice as to how you observe these weeks before Christmas. Will you allow yourself to pause from all the responsibilities of life, to wait in silence, to allow yourself space to grow? Or will you push through to festivities as though your life is truly happy and jolly as it is?
For me, the metaphor for Advent which makes the best sense is taken from the New Testament book of James, in chapter 5: Consider how the farmer waits for the land to yield a valuable crop. The farmer doesn’t rush. Instead, the farmer watches in winter when the land is fallow and allows the spring rain to nourish the seed. This Advent, I’ll be like the farmer who watches and waits. And at Christmas, I will look forward to something to be born anew within me.
Happy Advent!
Image by Wolfgang Eckert from Pixabay