While you wait
Commentary
What is the relationship between waiting and probability?
If I am waiting for someone to meet me at a particular place and time, then my sense that he could walk through the door any minute increases as the appointed hour grows nearer. And, if he is not there on time, my expectation continues to grow for several minutes after the set time. "He really should be here by now," I say to myself. "I'm sure he will arrive at any moment."
At some point, however, the line on the graph of my expectation turns downward. I daresay, for example, that if a person is more than an hour late for an appointment, my anticipation that he will walk through the door diminishes rather than increases with every passing minute. And, eventually, I will assume that something must have happened. I conclude that he is not coming at all.
The first-century Christians eagerly awaited Christ's return. After all, all of the other major events -- Jesus' birth, death, resurrection, ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit -- all had happened in such a relatively short period of time. Surely Jesus' return was imminent.
Some of Jesus' own teachings and promises encouraged the belief that he would return sooner rather than later. In our gospel lection for this Sunday, Jesus says that "this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place," which surely led his disciples to conclude that he would return during their lifetimes.
The genuine sense of expectation within the early church is further evidenced by their confusion about his delay. Paul had to address for the Thessalonians the unexpected theological conundrum of what happens to believers who die prior to Christ's return (1 Thessalonians 4:13ff). And Peter had to explain that the Lord was not, in fact, slow to fulfill his promise (2 Peter 3:1ff).
Now so many years, generations and centuries have come and gone. And it may be that, for many twenty-first-century Christians, we are no longer looking at our watches and wondering why he isn't here yet. Perhaps the graph of our expectation has turned downward, and we secretly doubt that he is coming at all -- at least during our lifetime.
Advent is the right season for us. It is a season of waiting for a "long-expected Jesus."
Jeremiah 33:14-16
"The days are surely coming, says the Lord." If the season of Advent had a motto, this would be it.
Life includes a certain amount of waiting. During Advent, we focus on a certain kind of waiting. Waiting that is deliberate, faithful, and hopeful. Waiting for what God has in store. And waiting that is confident in his promises.
Waiting does not come easily for us, even in the best of circumstances. It is more difficult when the timing is unknown. And it is hardest of all when we become discouraged: discouraged that the good thing for which we wait may never come.
The people of Jeremiah's day had good reason to be discouraged. By the time of our selected passage, many Jews were already in exile in far-off Babylon. Judah and Jerusalem had no remnants of their former glory. The king on the throne that had been David's and Solomon's was a weak puppet. The land had been ravaged. The temple and palace had been stripped bare -- left in an alley sitting on blocks without their hubcaps.
And for all the devastation that had already occurred, the worst was still right around the corner. Like a neighborhood picking up the pieces from one tornado only to look up and see another one descending from a menacing sky, the Jews in Jerusalem were on the verge of seeing their city decimated, their king humiliated, and the temple destroyed.
In the midst of that, Jeremiah proclaims the Lord's assurance that days of safety, justice, peace, and righteousness are ahead. Just when David's line seems about to be cut off for good, God promises "a righteous Branch." Just as Jerusalem faces unprecedented danger comes God's guarantee that "Jerusalem will live in safety."
Jerusalem living in safety doesn't happen in Jeremiah's day, though. Neither does it come in Nehemiah's day, nor in Jesus'. Not in our day, either, for that matter.
The temptation during Advent may be for us to adopt an "it's all good" posture. We understandably emphasize the promises fulfilled, the messianic hope realized. But we are challenged to consider honestly the promises that are not yet fulfilled -- the divine checks that are still in the mail. The Jeremiah passage can help us do that.
God made his promises through Jeremiah in the midst of an era of divine judgment. That is not an inconsistency, a schizophrenia, in God. On the contrary, it is profound proof of his marvelous consistency. For in spite of his people's notorious wickedness, his will and his plan for them remains one of goodness, blessing, and peace.
Furthermore, inasmuch as we recognize the identity of the "righteous Branch" who is the centerpiece of this prophecy, we see that God's promises are fundamentally about what God will do. His people have not done their part in his perfect plan, but still he will do his part.
If our observance of Advent is only the artificial, anachronistic period of waiting for Jesus' birth, then we shortchange God, his word, and his people. For we, like the people of Jeremiah's day, are in a genuine period of waiting. It is a time of great turmoil in the world around us. It is an era when we can't deny that God's own people have failed him. Still, in the midst of that, we affirm the unchanging goodness of God's will and the certainty of his promises. And thus we wait -- with faith, hope, expectation, and confidence.
1 Thessalonians 3:9-13
The passage is an excerpt. Not just an excerpt from a letter, but an excerpt from a relationship.
That's true in a measure, of course, of any passage from any of the New Testament epistles. It is especially so here, though, for this passage is particularly personal.
Pastors and preachers know that there is nothing that seems quite so fragile and improbable as a brand new convert. A baby Christian seems so unlikely to survive its first days in this fallen world. It is astonishing to consider, therefore, that that is essentially what Paul was leaving behind in virtually every city he evangelized. He did not have the luxury of entrusting one or two new Christians to an established congregation of mature saints. Rather, he so often left behind a brand-new congregation of brand new believers. He could only entrust them to God himself.
And so, when Timothy returned to Paul from Thessalonica with a good report (3:6, 8), Paul must have been profoundly encouraged and grateful. He expresses his gratitude to God (v. 9), as well as his passionate concern for them while he is separated from them (v. 10).
I have noticed in myself as a parent a strange bit of unintended theology. I am inclined to pray more fervently for the safety, protection, and welfare of my children when I am away from them. Perhaps that reflects -- rightly or wrongly -- an unstated assumption on my part that when I am there to take care of my children myself, God need not be so attentive.
In this passage, Paul shows a parental attitude toward the Thessalonian Christians. He is worried about them while he is absent, prays "most earnestly" about them and is almost impatient to be back where he can take care of them himself. Through it all, though, Paul continues to entrust the Thessalonian believers to God.
Paul's ultimate prayer for his spiritual children is that God "would so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints." Here we meet our Advent theme of Christ's coming. And here we get another angle on what is to take place in our lives while we wait.
Luke 21:25-36
In each of the three synoptic Gospels, sayings and parables about the end-of-time pepper Jesus' final week in Jerusalem. And so here, in the Gospel of Luke, our selected passage comes in the midst of a chapter devoted almost entirely to the eschaton. (In Matthew, the same passage appears in the midst of nearly two full chapters of teachings about the end.)
The end, according to Jesus, will be marked by signs. As suggested by the term given them, these events will be, literally, significant -- that is to say, they will be both important and informative.
The interesting thing about Jesus' brief fig tree parable to illustrate the signs is the issue of cause and effect. The leaves appearing on the fig tree are reckoned by Jesus as a sign that summer is near, just as the dramatic and cosmic signs he described may be understood as a sign that his coming is near. But note that the leaves on a fig tree are not the cause of summer's coming: rather, the cause-and-effect relationship works the other way around.
Can we draw the same conclusion about the second coming of Jesus? What is the cause-and-effect relationship between his return and the signs of his return? Can it be that his advent prompts the dramatic occurrences that are said to precede it? A great deal of wind and water batter the coastline before the eye of the hurricane actually hits land. Perhaps, too, Christ's coming is so potent that it is necessarily preceded by an entourage of cosmic and cataclysmic events.
If that is the case, then isn't it ironic that Jesus should have to warn his disciples to be careful, lest "that day catch you unexpectedly" (v. 34). How is it that such a day could catch us unexpectedly? What Jesus described was not like a supersonic jet -- no warning that it's coming, but just a massive boom when it arrives. No, this coming day will be preceded by all kinds of rumbling.
Still, many a person has chosen to ignore a symptom in his or her body. Denial, too-busyness, and a kind of anti-alarmist tendency all can prompt an individual to dismiss a sign that something serious might be wrong. Christ's followers are challenged not to be so myopically preoccupied with the present that we miss the universe's symptoms.
Meanwhile, our text presents us with an interesting juxtaposition of things passing away and not passing away. The present generation, according to Jesus, would not pass away before "all things have taken place." Heaven and earth, by contrast, will pass away. Still, on the other hand, his words will not pass away. It is an unexpected redefinition of permanence and stability. Heaven and earth, which seem everlasting, will pass away. Indeed, the beginning of their end has already begun. But words -- which don't seem to exist in reality beyond the moment they are spoken -- the words of Jesus will endure forever.
Finally, as we consider verse 32, we must assume that Jesus was incorrect about "this generation," or that there is some meaning other than the plain meaning to "this generation" or "pass away," or that "all things have taken place." If it is the latter, then suddenly a great many folks are unemployed who have made a career out of reading the signs of the times. It also begs the question: If all things have already taken place, then why hasn't Christ returned yet?
Perhaps that is the question Peter answers in 2 Peter 3. Wouldn't it be ironic if, while we sat here thinking that we are waiting for him, it turns out that he is actually waiting for us?
Application
What do you do while you wait?
We do a fair amount of waiting during an average week. We wait in traffic. We wait on hold on the telephone. We wait in checkout lines. We wait for the server to take our order or bring our food. We wait for folks to respond -- to our phone message, to our letter, to our e-mail. We wait for things to download, to boot up, and to print.
And what do we do while we wait?
The proliferation of cell phones have made waiting easier for many of us. We feel we can at least get something done while waiting in traffic or in line. Many folks also turn waiting into an opportunity to check their Palm Pilots, calendars, and lists of things to do. And for years businesses have tried to improve our experience of waiting on hold by playing music, promoting products, and offering recorded assurances that our call is important to them and that the next available agent will be with us shortly.
The irony with most of what we do while we wait is that it usually has nothing to do with the thing we're waiting for. I may make some calls on my cell phone while waiting in traffic, but the calls don't alleviate the traffic or increase my speed. I may take a moment to look ahead on my calendar while waiting in the line at the grocery store, but my calendar does not assist my grocery shopping.
Have you ever waited in a grocery line behind people who seem unprepared when it's their turn to check out? They get to the front of the line and fumble for their wallet or coupons. They only then begin to fill out the check that could have been mostly completed during the wait.
That is the irony -- the tragedy, really -- of so many Christians in our present waiting. We are busy about many things while we wait, but so often the stuff we're doing has no relation to or impact on the thing we're waiting for. And so, when that day comes, we stand a very good chance of being unprepared.
Being prepared is a central theme in Jesus' teachings about the end of time, and the first key to preparedness is to "be alert at all times" (21:36). Jesus identifies the commonplace things that threaten to dull and distract us so that we will not be alert. Hearts that are "weighed down" and "the worries of this life" -- these are not extraordinary things. Quite the contrary, they conspire to blind us to what is extraordinary.
Perhaps the average parent often wishes that the child in the back seat would just go to sleep and stop asking, "Are we there yet? How much longer?" Our heavenly Father, on the other hand, may grieve the fact that so many of his children are asleep and seemingly disinterested in "how much longer."
The writer of Hebrews says that Jesus will return "to save those who are eagerly waiting for him" (Hebrews 9:28). I wonder if that might be a frighteningly small group. If he returns to save those who believe in him, then the raptured crowd will be much larger. But I'm afraid that "those who are eagerly waiting for him" is a small minority of the former group.
So we are presented with the challenge to wait eagerly. And just how eager we are will be both determined and reflected by what we do while we wait.
An Alternative Application
Luke 21:25-36. In the 1988 movie Rain Man, one scene features Raymond, an autistic man who had lived most of his life in the protective environment of an institution, trying to cross a street at a busy intersection. He waits patiently for the sign to give him the cue to "Walk," but before he has reached the other side of the street the instruction changes to "Don't Walk." So Raymond stops, right there in the middle of the street.
There is much consternation and honking among the drivers who are being inconvenienced. Raymond, meanwhile, is confused and troubled, for he was only following directions. We recognize that "Don't Walk" is not to be taken literally when you've already begun to cross the street. But Raymond, in his innocence and inexperience, read the sign differently.
Jesus' teaching about the end of time in this passage suggests that his followers, too, might read signs differently than the rest of the world. Not traffic signs, but signs of the times.
Consider the signs predicted by Jesus. In our selected passage, as well as in the verses immediately preceding, it seems that the signs of the end times will be tumultuous developments, both in the world and in the cosmos. Any one of the several dramatic, and in some cases cataclysmic, events would be front-page stories. Any one of those signs would dominate the "news talk" on radio and television.
Jesus predicts the understandable reaction of the world to these kinds of signs. Nations will be confused and distressed. People will faint, filled with fear and dread.
But what about Jesus' followers? Apparently they are expected to read and respond to the signs quite differently. "Stand up and raise your heads," Jesus says, "because your redemption is drawing near" (21:28).
While everyone else runs for cover, Jesus' disciples greet that day with gladness. While the rest of the neighborhood heads for shelter in their basements, Jesus' followers climb up on their roofs to welcome his return.
Of course, that distinction is not limited to the big day. The distinction between how Jesus' followers live and how the rest of the world around them lives should be apparent every day.
In this respect, Jesus' teachings about the end of time are natural extensions of his earlier ethical teachings about how to live in the meantime. For whether it is the big day or just another day, his followers respond differently. We respond differently than the world around us because we are responding to something different than the world is. While the fallen world lives in response to appetites and affections, to flesh, to money, and to ego, the followers of Jesus Christ lives in constant response to him. And that makes all the difference.
Psalm 25:1-10
There are two important features about this psalm that should not be overlooked. First, like a few other psalms, this one is an alphabetic poem, known as an "acrostic." This means that the psalm follows the alphabet with each successive verse starting with the next letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Writers who employed this technique were not simply trying to be clever. Ancient Hebrews believed even the very letters of words used to worship and honor God were sacred. Arranging the verses in this creative and thoughtful way was just another attempt to show reverence and respect to the Lord.
The second feature to note is that the psalm is a lament. The lament is the most prevalent type of psalm in the Psalter. Over 40 of the psalms in the canon are laments. In general, a lament was a prayer or plea offered to God in times of distress.
The lament of Psalm 25 was originally written to be used in a service of worship in which an individual's needs or suffering was the focus of the service. It is this feature that finds this psalm used several different times throughout the Christian lectionary cycle, especially during Lent and Advent.
In both of these significant seasons in the Christian year, the psalmist's plea is important: "Do not let those who wait for you be put to shame" (v. 3). Faithful waiting is the main emphasis in both Advent and Lent. Both seasons call for a disciplined wait for fulfillment. We wait for the birth of the Messiah. We wait for the child to become a man. We wait for the man to die on a cross. We wait for his resurrection. We are waiting for his return.
Being put to shame can have two points of focus. As we wait faithfully for the Lord to act on our behalf, we hope not to be humiliated or oppressed by circumstances. Nothing is a greater challenge to our faith than to suffer in the midst of, or because of, our obedience. Waiting is inevitable, but as the Lord taught us to pray, we can ask that the Lord "deliver us from evil."
The other focus of shame has to do with the character of our faithfulness. The temptation during the long wait for the Lord to appear is to lose heart and to break trust. In a fit of despair we cry with the fool, "there is no God," or what amounts to the same thing -- there is no hope. In this sense the psalmist is praying that when the Lord appears we will be found faithful, that we will not be shamed by our disobedience or by our surrender to despair.
In the case of the psalmist, the wait is marked by suffering -- but isn't that always the way? If there was no pain in life, no tension, no challenges to our morality, there would be no longing for the Lord to appear. It is because our world is fallen and we are constantly bombarded with messages to give up or give in that our waiting takes on such a critical function. In a broken and cruel world marked by violence and death, we wait for the arrival of the prince of peace.
If I am waiting for someone to meet me at a particular place and time, then my sense that he could walk through the door any minute increases as the appointed hour grows nearer. And, if he is not there on time, my expectation continues to grow for several minutes after the set time. "He really should be here by now," I say to myself. "I'm sure he will arrive at any moment."
At some point, however, the line on the graph of my expectation turns downward. I daresay, for example, that if a person is more than an hour late for an appointment, my anticipation that he will walk through the door diminishes rather than increases with every passing minute. And, eventually, I will assume that something must have happened. I conclude that he is not coming at all.
The first-century Christians eagerly awaited Christ's return. After all, all of the other major events -- Jesus' birth, death, resurrection, ascension, and the coming of the Holy Spirit -- all had happened in such a relatively short period of time. Surely Jesus' return was imminent.
Some of Jesus' own teachings and promises encouraged the belief that he would return sooner rather than later. In our gospel lection for this Sunday, Jesus says that "this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place," which surely led his disciples to conclude that he would return during their lifetimes.
The genuine sense of expectation within the early church is further evidenced by their confusion about his delay. Paul had to address for the Thessalonians the unexpected theological conundrum of what happens to believers who die prior to Christ's return (1 Thessalonians 4:13ff). And Peter had to explain that the Lord was not, in fact, slow to fulfill his promise (2 Peter 3:1ff).
Now so many years, generations and centuries have come and gone. And it may be that, for many twenty-first-century Christians, we are no longer looking at our watches and wondering why he isn't here yet. Perhaps the graph of our expectation has turned downward, and we secretly doubt that he is coming at all -- at least during our lifetime.
Advent is the right season for us. It is a season of waiting for a "long-expected Jesus."
Jeremiah 33:14-16
"The days are surely coming, says the Lord." If the season of Advent had a motto, this would be it.
Life includes a certain amount of waiting. During Advent, we focus on a certain kind of waiting. Waiting that is deliberate, faithful, and hopeful. Waiting for what God has in store. And waiting that is confident in his promises.
Waiting does not come easily for us, even in the best of circumstances. It is more difficult when the timing is unknown. And it is hardest of all when we become discouraged: discouraged that the good thing for which we wait may never come.
The people of Jeremiah's day had good reason to be discouraged. By the time of our selected passage, many Jews were already in exile in far-off Babylon. Judah and Jerusalem had no remnants of their former glory. The king on the throne that had been David's and Solomon's was a weak puppet. The land had been ravaged. The temple and palace had been stripped bare -- left in an alley sitting on blocks without their hubcaps.
And for all the devastation that had already occurred, the worst was still right around the corner. Like a neighborhood picking up the pieces from one tornado only to look up and see another one descending from a menacing sky, the Jews in Jerusalem were on the verge of seeing their city decimated, their king humiliated, and the temple destroyed.
In the midst of that, Jeremiah proclaims the Lord's assurance that days of safety, justice, peace, and righteousness are ahead. Just when David's line seems about to be cut off for good, God promises "a righteous Branch." Just as Jerusalem faces unprecedented danger comes God's guarantee that "Jerusalem will live in safety."
Jerusalem living in safety doesn't happen in Jeremiah's day, though. Neither does it come in Nehemiah's day, nor in Jesus'. Not in our day, either, for that matter.
The temptation during Advent may be for us to adopt an "it's all good" posture. We understandably emphasize the promises fulfilled, the messianic hope realized. But we are challenged to consider honestly the promises that are not yet fulfilled -- the divine checks that are still in the mail. The Jeremiah passage can help us do that.
God made his promises through Jeremiah in the midst of an era of divine judgment. That is not an inconsistency, a schizophrenia, in God. On the contrary, it is profound proof of his marvelous consistency. For in spite of his people's notorious wickedness, his will and his plan for them remains one of goodness, blessing, and peace.
Furthermore, inasmuch as we recognize the identity of the "righteous Branch" who is the centerpiece of this prophecy, we see that God's promises are fundamentally about what God will do. His people have not done their part in his perfect plan, but still he will do his part.
If our observance of Advent is only the artificial, anachronistic period of waiting for Jesus' birth, then we shortchange God, his word, and his people. For we, like the people of Jeremiah's day, are in a genuine period of waiting. It is a time of great turmoil in the world around us. It is an era when we can't deny that God's own people have failed him. Still, in the midst of that, we affirm the unchanging goodness of God's will and the certainty of his promises. And thus we wait -- with faith, hope, expectation, and confidence.
1 Thessalonians 3:9-13
The passage is an excerpt. Not just an excerpt from a letter, but an excerpt from a relationship.
That's true in a measure, of course, of any passage from any of the New Testament epistles. It is especially so here, though, for this passage is particularly personal.
Pastors and preachers know that there is nothing that seems quite so fragile and improbable as a brand new convert. A baby Christian seems so unlikely to survive its first days in this fallen world. It is astonishing to consider, therefore, that that is essentially what Paul was leaving behind in virtually every city he evangelized. He did not have the luxury of entrusting one or two new Christians to an established congregation of mature saints. Rather, he so often left behind a brand-new congregation of brand new believers. He could only entrust them to God himself.
And so, when Timothy returned to Paul from Thessalonica with a good report (3:6, 8), Paul must have been profoundly encouraged and grateful. He expresses his gratitude to God (v. 9), as well as his passionate concern for them while he is separated from them (v. 10).
I have noticed in myself as a parent a strange bit of unintended theology. I am inclined to pray more fervently for the safety, protection, and welfare of my children when I am away from them. Perhaps that reflects -- rightly or wrongly -- an unstated assumption on my part that when I am there to take care of my children myself, God need not be so attentive.
In this passage, Paul shows a parental attitude toward the Thessalonian Christians. He is worried about them while he is absent, prays "most earnestly" about them and is almost impatient to be back where he can take care of them himself. Through it all, though, Paul continues to entrust the Thessalonian believers to God.
Paul's ultimate prayer for his spiritual children is that God "would so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints." Here we meet our Advent theme of Christ's coming. And here we get another angle on what is to take place in our lives while we wait.
Luke 21:25-36
In each of the three synoptic Gospels, sayings and parables about the end-of-time pepper Jesus' final week in Jerusalem. And so here, in the Gospel of Luke, our selected passage comes in the midst of a chapter devoted almost entirely to the eschaton. (In Matthew, the same passage appears in the midst of nearly two full chapters of teachings about the end.)
The end, according to Jesus, will be marked by signs. As suggested by the term given them, these events will be, literally, significant -- that is to say, they will be both important and informative.
The interesting thing about Jesus' brief fig tree parable to illustrate the signs is the issue of cause and effect. The leaves appearing on the fig tree are reckoned by Jesus as a sign that summer is near, just as the dramatic and cosmic signs he described may be understood as a sign that his coming is near. But note that the leaves on a fig tree are not the cause of summer's coming: rather, the cause-and-effect relationship works the other way around.
Can we draw the same conclusion about the second coming of Jesus? What is the cause-and-effect relationship between his return and the signs of his return? Can it be that his advent prompts the dramatic occurrences that are said to precede it? A great deal of wind and water batter the coastline before the eye of the hurricane actually hits land. Perhaps, too, Christ's coming is so potent that it is necessarily preceded by an entourage of cosmic and cataclysmic events.
If that is the case, then isn't it ironic that Jesus should have to warn his disciples to be careful, lest "that day catch you unexpectedly" (v. 34). How is it that such a day could catch us unexpectedly? What Jesus described was not like a supersonic jet -- no warning that it's coming, but just a massive boom when it arrives. No, this coming day will be preceded by all kinds of rumbling.
Still, many a person has chosen to ignore a symptom in his or her body. Denial, too-busyness, and a kind of anti-alarmist tendency all can prompt an individual to dismiss a sign that something serious might be wrong. Christ's followers are challenged not to be so myopically preoccupied with the present that we miss the universe's symptoms.
Meanwhile, our text presents us with an interesting juxtaposition of things passing away and not passing away. The present generation, according to Jesus, would not pass away before "all things have taken place." Heaven and earth, by contrast, will pass away. Still, on the other hand, his words will not pass away. It is an unexpected redefinition of permanence and stability. Heaven and earth, which seem everlasting, will pass away. Indeed, the beginning of their end has already begun. But words -- which don't seem to exist in reality beyond the moment they are spoken -- the words of Jesus will endure forever.
Finally, as we consider verse 32, we must assume that Jesus was incorrect about "this generation," or that there is some meaning other than the plain meaning to "this generation" or "pass away," or that "all things have taken place." If it is the latter, then suddenly a great many folks are unemployed who have made a career out of reading the signs of the times. It also begs the question: If all things have already taken place, then why hasn't Christ returned yet?
Perhaps that is the question Peter answers in 2 Peter 3. Wouldn't it be ironic if, while we sat here thinking that we are waiting for him, it turns out that he is actually waiting for us?
Application
What do you do while you wait?
We do a fair amount of waiting during an average week. We wait in traffic. We wait on hold on the telephone. We wait in checkout lines. We wait for the server to take our order or bring our food. We wait for folks to respond -- to our phone message, to our letter, to our e-mail. We wait for things to download, to boot up, and to print.
And what do we do while we wait?
The proliferation of cell phones have made waiting easier for many of us. We feel we can at least get something done while waiting in traffic or in line. Many folks also turn waiting into an opportunity to check their Palm Pilots, calendars, and lists of things to do. And for years businesses have tried to improve our experience of waiting on hold by playing music, promoting products, and offering recorded assurances that our call is important to them and that the next available agent will be with us shortly.
The irony with most of what we do while we wait is that it usually has nothing to do with the thing we're waiting for. I may make some calls on my cell phone while waiting in traffic, but the calls don't alleviate the traffic or increase my speed. I may take a moment to look ahead on my calendar while waiting in the line at the grocery store, but my calendar does not assist my grocery shopping.
Have you ever waited in a grocery line behind people who seem unprepared when it's their turn to check out? They get to the front of the line and fumble for their wallet or coupons. They only then begin to fill out the check that could have been mostly completed during the wait.
That is the irony -- the tragedy, really -- of so many Christians in our present waiting. We are busy about many things while we wait, but so often the stuff we're doing has no relation to or impact on the thing we're waiting for. And so, when that day comes, we stand a very good chance of being unprepared.
Being prepared is a central theme in Jesus' teachings about the end of time, and the first key to preparedness is to "be alert at all times" (21:36). Jesus identifies the commonplace things that threaten to dull and distract us so that we will not be alert. Hearts that are "weighed down" and "the worries of this life" -- these are not extraordinary things. Quite the contrary, they conspire to blind us to what is extraordinary.
Perhaps the average parent often wishes that the child in the back seat would just go to sleep and stop asking, "Are we there yet? How much longer?" Our heavenly Father, on the other hand, may grieve the fact that so many of his children are asleep and seemingly disinterested in "how much longer."
The writer of Hebrews says that Jesus will return "to save those who are eagerly waiting for him" (Hebrews 9:28). I wonder if that might be a frighteningly small group. If he returns to save those who believe in him, then the raptured crowd will be much larger. But I'm afraid that "those who are eagerly waiting for him" is a small minority of the former group.
So we are presented with the challenge to wait eagerly. And just how eager we are will be both determined and reflected by what we do while we wait.
An Alternative Application
Luke 21:25-36. In the 1988 movie Rain Man, one scene features Raymond, an autistic man who had lived most of his life in the protective environment of an institution, trying to cross a street at a busy intersection. He waits patiently for the sign to give him the cue to "Walk," but before he has reached the other side of the street the instruction changes to "Don't Walk." So Raymond stops, right there in the middle of the street.
There is much consternation and honking among the drivers who are being inconvenienced. Raymond, meanwhile, is confused and troubled, for he was only following directions. We recognize that "Don't Walk" is not to be taken literally when you've already begun to cross the street. But Raymond, in his innocence and inexperience, read the sign differently.
Jesus' teaching about the end of time in this passage suggests that his followers, too, might read signs differently than the rest of the world. Not traffic signs, but signs of the times.
Consider the signs predicted by Jesus. In our selected passage, as well as in the verses immediately preceding, it seems that the signs of the end times will be tumultuous developments, both in the world and in the cosmos. Any one of the several dramatic, and in some cases cataclysmic, events would be front-page stories. Any one of those signs would dominate the "news talk" on radio and television.
Jesus predicts the understandable reaction of the world to these kinds of signs. Nations will be confused and distressed. People will faint, filled with fear and dread.
But what about Jesus' followers? Apparently they are expected to read and respond to the signs quite differently. "Stand up and raise your heads," Jesus says, "because your redemption is drawing near" (21:28).
While everyone else runs for cover, Jesus' disciples greet that day with gladness. While the rest of the neighborhood heads for shelter in their basements, Jesus' followers climb up on their roofs to welcome his return.
Of course, that distinction is not limited to the big day. The distinction between how Jesus' followers live and how the rest of the world around them lives should be apparent every day.
In this respect, Jesus' teachings about the end of time are natural extensions of his earlier ethical teachings about how to live in the meantime. For whether it is the big day or just another day, his followers respond differently. We respond differently than the world around us because we are responding to something different than the world is. While the fallen world lives in response to appetites and affections, to flesh, to money, and to ego, the followers of Jesus Christ lives in constant response to him. And that makes all the difference.
Psalm 25:1-10
There are two important features about this psalm that should not be overlooked. First, like a few other psalms, this one is an alphabetic poem, known as an "acrostic." This means that the psalm follows the alphabet with each successive verse starting with the next letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Writers who employed this technique were not simply trying to be clever. Ancient Hebrews believed even the very letters of words used to worship and honor God were sacred. Arranging the verses in this creative and thoughtful way was just another attempt to show reverence and respect to the Lord.
The second feature to note is that the psalm is a lament. The lament is the most prevalent type of psalm in the Psalter. Over 40 of the psalms in the canon are laments. In general, a lament was a prayer or plea offered to God in times of distress.
The lament of Psalm 25 was originally written to be used in a service of worship in which an individual's needs or suffering was the focus of the service. It is this feature that finds this psalm used several different times throughout the Christian lectionary cycle, especially during Lent and Advent.
In both of these significant seasons in the Christian year, the psalmist's plea is important: "Do not let those who wait for you be put to shame" (v. 3). Faithful waiting is the main emphasis in both Advent and Lent. Both seasons call for a disciplined wait for fulfillment. We wait for the birth of the Messiah. We wait for the child to become a man. We wait for the man to die on a cross. We wait for his resurrection. We are waiting for his return.
Being put to shame can have two points of focus. As we wait faithfully for the Lord to act on our behalf, we hope not to be humiliated or oppressed by circumstances. Nothing is a greater challenge to our faith than to suffer in the midst of, or because of, our obedience. Waiting is inevitable, but as the Lord taught us to pray, we can ask that the Lord "deliver us from evil."
The other focus of shame has to do with the character of our faithfulness. The temptation during the long wait for the Lord to appear is to lose heart and to break trust. In a fit of despair we cry with the fool, "there is no God," or what amounts to the same thing -- there is no hope. In this sense the psalmist is praying that when the Lord appears we will be found faithful, that we will not be shamed by our disobedience or by our surrender to despair.
In the case of the psalmist, the wait is marked by suffering -- but isn't that always the way? If there was no pain in life, no tension, no challenges to our morality, there would be no longing for the Lord to appear. It is because our world is fallen and we are constantly bombarded with messages to give up or give in that our waiting takes on such a critical function. In a broken and cruel world marked by violence and death, we wait for the arrival of the prince of peace.
