It’s one of the hardest things to do. And few of us enjoy it. But everyday we find ourselves waiting for one reason or another. We wait for the water to boil. We wait for the bus to come. We wait for the bell to ring. We wait… and we wait… and we can’t get away from waiting.
Sometimes waiting is an experience to be savoured. I think of the anticipation and joy preceding the birth of a baby, or the excitement of a special occasion. But other times it is frustrating and distressing. No-one likes to wait for an operation. Nor would we want to wait to hear news from someone we love.
But waiting is a fact of life. It’s common to us all. Though I expect you’ll agree most of our waiting is trivial compared to what some others have to wait for.
A photo on my study wall reminds me of this. In 1990 I spent 5 weeks on a rubbish dump in the slums of Manila. There, amidst the rat infested garbage and rotting food, thousands lived. Some had lived there for generations. Their situation was desperate, but for many of those I met it wasn’t without hope.
For people like Manuel, a man who spent his days feeding the children of Smokey Mountain, he waited for a new day; a day when the mud, the stench and the disease were no more, and the young could have a brighter future. And he went about his daily life as though this day had already arrived.
In a similar way, the same could be said of the writers of today’s readings.
The prophet Isaiah, for example, spoke in a time of chaos. Despite the fact his homeland was conquered, the sacred places lay in ruins, and rich and poor alike now lived as exiles in foreign lands, he still looked to the future with hope.
In a land not his own, he pleaded for God to act. He begged to be saved and for the life of the community to be restored. And he cried out to God in spite of the people’s wrongdoings; and hoped they did not have to wait too long.
And who can blame him? Few of us like to wait long. We know there is often a gap between what we pray for, what we long for, and what we now experience; and this isn’t unique to the poor or to the past. We know it’s true for ourselves.
We long for healing in our lives; for relationships restored and for deep wounds mended. And yet we feel the agony and the pain of our brokenness.
We long for a society which knows how to care. And yet seldom a day goes by without a story of loneliness, of neglect, or of abuse in our communities.
We long for a world where nations strive for peace and refrain from war. And yet all around the fires of hatred burn and the cries of the innocent are muted.
It makes you wonder, all this waiting: ‘where is God?’ And it confronts us with a question: ‘what will our response be?’ Will we wait expectantly, working and praying for a better day, trusting in the goodness of God? Or will we give up on hope, and live as a defeated people?
One answer to these questions is found in the scriptures. These writers show us theirs is not the way of despair.  It is also not the response of people of faith throughout the years. They chose life. They chose hope. They chose God.
“Restore us again, O God,’ the psalmist says, ‘show us the light of your face and we shall be saved.” These are words of faith and of courage.
I share these thoughts with you today because it is the beginning of Advent. And this season reminds us there are some things for which we must wait.
Advent isn’t only about the expected birth of a baby 2000 years ago, nor is it a time to focus solely on the festivities of Christmas Day. More than this, Advent is about our longings for the future and our hope for the present.
Paul commends the Christians in Corinth for not losing hope, and for waiting expectantly for Christ to be revealed. And Jesus, in words reminiscent of the apocalyptic writers, tells his followers “stay awake” and “be alert.”
Waiting is a fact of life, the scriptures make this clear. We all have to wait for something. But the waiting of Advent isn’t about inaction or idleness. Instead it is an invitation for us to turn towards God; to allow the light of God’s face to shine upon us; and to live in the hope the One we long to see is already here.
“Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come in glory.”
So this Advent let us wait expectantly, praying and working for a better day. Let us keep our eyes open, hopeful what has been begun in Christ will one day come to completion. And let us be alert to signs of God’s presence all around us, celebrating life, choosing hope, and praying for the kingdom to come. Amen.
A sermon preached in St Alban’s Anglican Church, Eastbourne, on Sunday 30 November 2008, by the Ven. Damon Plimmer.