Day 14—Saturday, December 13

I, Jesus, have sent My angel to testify to you these things for the churches. I am the root and the descendant of David, the bright morning star.
The Spirit and the bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who wishes take the water of life without cost.
He who testifies to these things says, “Yes, I am coming quickly.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
Revelation 22:16-17, 20

THE SECOND COMING
This is a strange season. In Advent, we look forward to an event that happened 2000 years ago. We anticipate remembering. Christ has come. The Word became flesh, dwelt among us in perfect faithfulness to his Father, died, rose again, and ascended to the Father’s right hand. It is finished.

And yet, in another sense it isn’t. On the final page of Scripture, the Spirit and the bride strain eagerly for Christ to come back. Despite Christ’s finished work, there is more work for him to do. And so, in Advent, not only do we anticipate remembering; we also remember to anticipate, to yearn for the day when Christ comes again.

Let’s be honest: Christmas is disappointing. At least, it is for many of us. At least, some of the time. We anticipate the time off, the time with family, the gifts given and received—maybe even the joy and mystery of Christ’s birth. But we also anticipate traffic, harried shopping in annoyingly cheery malls, miscommunications and dashed expectations. After the age of ten or so Christmas becomes, at best, a nostalgic time when we recall the days that it really was everything it promised to be.

All this might invite cynicism (it’s not for nothing that depression spikes at Christmas.) But it might also invite a holy dissatisfaction. What if we were to hear in the sighs of disappointment a Christward longing? What if we prayerfully reoriented our impatience with the way things are to the promise of the way they will be at Christ’s return, on the day when he wipes away every tear from our eyes?

I don’t think that would diminish our disappointment; nor should it. But it would cast it in a new light, in the light of the bright morning star, the herald of the dawn. At his first advent, the light of the world shone in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it (John 1:5). When he returns, this same light will banish the darkness, will wipe away every tear from our days, and we will dwell in the everlasting light of his presence.

As we walk through the often surprising darkness of this season, may the Spirit move us to join in his prayer to Christ our Light, to pray with all God’s people, “Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus.” Amen.

Matt Jenson, Torrey Honors Institute