ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ

Four-hundred years of silence. Can you imagine that? Going four centuries without hearing a thing from God? I can’t fathom it. I probably would have lost my faith and hope living in a land devoid of God’s voice for so long. Yes, the Babylonian exile was over, and the temple had been rebuilt. But for 400 years – ever since the prophet Malachi – nothing.

Then, suddenly, everything changed. The wait was over when an elderly man received a visit from an angel telling him he’d have a son who would prepare the way for the long-awaited Messiah.

It was over when, in the distant desert of the Medo-Persian empire, Gentiles who were students of the stars noticed a star – most likely the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn – appear to stop moving in the night sky, holding stationary in the constellation Virgo (the “virgin” … coincidence? I think not!), signaling the arrival of a new king.

The wait was over when a teenage virgin received a visit from an angel telling her she was going to give birth to the Son of God. When a carpenter had a dream instructing him to take Mary as his wife. And yes, by the way, she is with child.

The wait was over when this humble carpenter and his pregnant wife traversed the desert for 90 miles to reach the city of David – the king who was promised 1,000 years earlier that his lineage would produce the King of all Kings – only to find out they had to settle for a stable among animals, dung, and mud. Imagine the stench! Talk about an unconventional plan that only an unpredictable God could come up with!

And then, perhaps most wondrous of all, the wait was over when God stepped into time. He had only been eternal and timeless before this, but now he was placing himself into the construct of time. He would become human – one of us! And he arrived as a helpless baby, born to a teenage girl of no renown, in a stable.

The first to worship him? Not high-ranking officials – no, Herod, the man Rome appointed as the “king of the Jews,” wanted to kill him – but lowly shepherds and distant travelers, who only knew about this “new king” because they observed the emergence of a star in the East. The prophet Micah had predicted it 700 years before: The Savior would be born in Bethlehem. Now it was happening!

The wonder of it all!

I have to admit, when I think of ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ, maybe because of its familiarity, I often take it for granted and without much wonder. I don’t wonder at the fact the first worshippers were astronomer Gentiles who had traveled hundreds of miles. Or that the God who created a universe that astronomers are still unable to truly measure – the observable universe is 93 billion light years in diameter, however the actual size is unknown – became a baby.

No, I easily get caught up in what ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ is in a 21st century Western context. We sing the same carols each year, listen to the radio play songs about wanting two front teeth, Santa coming to town, and wanting a hippopotamus for ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ – and we stress out about presents, family gatherings, travel arrangements, and who’s going to cook what for the big meal.

Stars in the night sky

It’s at a time like this I need to take a step back. Advent. We talk about it, but what is it? It’s defined as “a time of preparation … of waiting in anticipation.” How often do I take the time to stop and think about what it means to wait, anticipate, and ultimately celebrate the miracle that is ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ?

Perhaps I can begin by somehow recapturing the wonder. Take time to gaze at the stars. Find a quiet place to contemplate this “ridiculous” plan (by human standards) to redeem mankind. Ask the Lord himself to remind me that, 2,000 years ago, he was willing to give up the eternal to step into the temporal – to forsake his place in heaven to bleed, sweat, suffer and ultimately die on a criminal’s cross.

Lord, help me get a glimpse of the wonder that is ºìÐÓ¶ÌÊÓƵ.

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