And now we wait, not for the birthing of the Gospel in each of us, yet communally as well. As the year comes to an end, we notice many of us are hurting, exhausted, feeling alone – not everyone for sure, but more than we may realize. Advent reminds us there is room for our aching souls. That we are those who will not be rushed into the artificial cheer of Christmas, but approach joy slowly and carefully, making sure the previous weeks of intentionally being in the dark, engaging embodied spirituality, and being silent, we are giving space to much of live experience that may often be denied because of the discomfort that is a part of Advent season.

What if we were more acquainted with waiting? Who can we wait with through our pain and our joys? #advent Share on X

How often does someone ask us something and we reply, “Just a second.” And the other person says, “It’s ok, take your time, I can wait.” What if we were more acquainted with waiting? Who can we wait with through our pain and our joys? In Advent, how often do we go with impulse and sense of urgency to get away from the grieving, the dissonance and the complicated challenges we face… of turning away from the “not yet,” rather then waiting for it.

Advent reminds us to wait, sit, ponder, pause, stay, rest for a while. Because as we wait, something is growing, stirring our collective womb, learning our collective stories, listening to our deepest fears, and eventually shining a light on love and longing. Advent is the language of waiting, resting and nurturing, engaging he paradox of believing in life’s inherent goodness while also naming the heartaches of any moment.

Morgan Harper Nichols put it this way: “And as you lean into Light, be gentle with the word “darkness.” it is the color of a full, starless night sky, and actual bodies of human beings who have been overlooked too many times. Many, many words hold more than one meaning.”

Advent is a message of what awe and wonder grows in the dark, if we are willing to be still, silent and wait. Advent reminds us that we are not always privy to what is happening – making room for the mystery.

While we wait we can learn and grow and become stronger. We can be conscientious and creative. We can be signs of hope that never go away until we shine the star. There is a mystery unfolding in the pitch of black while we wait. In Advent, we reclaim the dark and say this too is light.

Questions for contemplation

  1. What comes timing when I thin about waiting for something I long for?
  2. What do words like longing, yearning, desiring mean to me? (Might be comfortable emotions or bodily sensations or not – invite it all in)
  3. What if we were more acquainted with waiting? What would that look like?
  4. How often do we surrender to impulses and sense of urgency to get away from the grieving, discomfort, the “noise” of being silent and waiting, the dissonance and complicated challenges we face?
  5. Who can we wait with through our pain and our joys?
  6. How do we grasp the holy dark?
  7. What healing comes when we enter into a tension of light and dark as opposed to a hierarchy?

Embodied Practices for the week:

  • Just as the darkness has the capacity to hide things, so does the light. Watch the sunset and wait for the stars to slowly grow in number as the dark uncovers their light.
  • In the days leading up to Christmas, choose one evening to wake before sunrise. Sit and wait for the sun to pierce the darkness. Try not to keep watch of the time. Just rest in the waiting.

Advent Week 1: In the Dark While We Wait

Advent Week 2: Embodying the Communal Womb

Advent Week 3: Being Silent

Advent Week 4: Acknowledge the Waiting