Last Sunday we heard Jesus telling us to “be on guard” and to “keep alert at all times” (Luke 21:34-36). It was the First Sunday of Advent, which marks a season of anticipation for the coming of the Christ child at Christmas. Advent literally means “coming,” and the adult Jesus advises us to always be ready for the arrival of whatever God is sending into our lives.
I’m not the best at being on guard and keeping alert per Jesus’ instructions. Immediate tasks consume me, to-do lists pester me, distractions tempt me at every turn. I was focused on the moment a couple of Sunday nights ago at our Friendsgiving meal. There was a lot going on that night with nearly 150 of us at the church, which we had flipped into a dining room with enough seating and table space for everyone. With the clamor of conversations and laughter filling the sanctuary, I moved from one thing to another, immersed in the busyness at hand—until Mason stopped me in my tracks.
The seven-year-old looked up at me and spoke in a voice I couldn’t decipher over everything else filling my ears. He was asking me something. I crouched down. “Pastor Dan, do you want to hear a joke?” It took a second for his question to register. “I’d love to hear a joke!” I replied. In his small, sweet voice, barely audible in that boisterous setting, Mason told me this joke:
“Why did the football coach go to the bank?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“To get his quarter back.”
That was so good. I didn’t know I needed it until Mason made me stop and receive that goodness. The rest of the night felt lighter to me as a result, like the blessing it was meant to be. I felt free. Fifteen seconds, one joke from a child, and finally Jesus’ words registered: be on guard, be alert.
Advent is a time of waiting for God’s blessings, and the nature of our waiting is meant to be active, not passive. Preparing for the coming of Christ starts with preparing ourselves, being about an intentional posture that is ready to receive small, sweet gifts of God’s goodness that make all the difference in the world—gifts that go over our heads if we’re not actively paying attention.
But maybe you’re like me, where it’s easier said than done to be constantly on the lookout for signs of hope in the midst of each day’s clamor at least, chaos at most. That’s okay. That’s not a shortcoming. What gives me assurance is that active waiting is not only about being ready for what God is providing; it’s also about being an agent yourself in those provisions, being like Mason with his liberating joke.
In these particular days of fear and foreboding, as Jesus characterizes them (Luke 21:26), Advent summons us to enter the shadows of despair, war, sorrow, and hate with hopeful intentionality, actively waiting for Jesus’ arrival by lighting candles to illuminate the overwhelming weight of it all. Last Sunday, when we lit the candle of hope, it was meant for our consolation as well as our motivation. Hope is not just something we wait for; it’s an action we take, a candle we light, a hug that we give, a word of encouragement we share, a donation we make, a prayer we speak, a meal we provide, a letter we send, a present we wrap, a habit we break, a life we set free, a joke that we tell.
In this season of anticipation for God’s goodness in its many forms—more than our human perceptions can appreciate even when we are on our utmost guard and at peak alertness—when you can’t see anything good, when hope eludes you at every turn, take a page from Mason and tell a joke. It might make all the difference in the world.
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