Hey Church!

As we prepare to worship together, I want to invite you to reflect again on the two-part question of Advent: “Is God good and does He love us?” Some might need to begin with, “Is there even a God at all?” In either case, Advent is a season of watching and waiting for an answer–whether it be doom or deliverance.

Two Saturdays ago, we first examined the evidence offered by the universe itself. Being, as it is, perfectly and improbably ordered to sustain human life, the cosmos speaks of a Creator who, at the very least, cares about His creation. Were He not concerned with our well being, would not the earth also fight against us?  

The following week, we learned that Advent is a season to acknowledge the bitter truth that the earth does now fight against us because we believed ourselves to be wiser than God. (See Gen. 3:17-19) In our fallen state, we are cursed to wander in this unforgiving wilderness until we die. During Advent, we cry out with Isaiah, “O that thou wouldst rend the heavens and come down!” (Isa. 64:1) And with W.H. Auden we confess, “Nothing can save us that is possible: we who must die demand a miracle.” 

This brings us to exhibit B, where we will be confronted with indisputable evidence that God does, indeed, love us–and not just a little bit. But in order to hear its testimony, we must bow low to the ground, lean in, and listen carefully. Our most compelling case against the theory of a cold and uncaring God is the mild sound of a newborn baby crying.

But that is a story for a later time. For now, Advent calls us to exist in the tension of exile in hostile territory. There is a blurry memory of life in another world buried deep within our souls. It is the terrifying feeling of a child who has wandered too far from home and has hopelessly forgotten his way back.1 

       “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.” 

       – C.S. Lewis 

Miracles are signposts to that better world, and none shine brighter than the miracle of God’s incarnation. The Creator who cares for us has seen our desperate condition and broken the rules of nature to intervene. He could have sent legions of angels to fight back the darkness, or simply started over with a new creation. But love compelled Him to trade His life for ours. The Son of God becoming man was the only way to make us sons of God.2 

No cold, unconcerned sovereign being would do such a thing. We are dust! More than that, we were at enmity with Him. And yet He calls us precious, dearly loved children. While we wait for Jesus’ second advent, we have this promise from His own lips: “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” (John 14:1-3)

Take heart! Jesus is coming soon.