I saw a reel on Instagram showing pictures of Jesus present in our everyday lives. There was Jesus, sitting at one of those low Kindergarten tables, in a much-too-small-for-him chair, coloring with a small child. He looked as if he were having fun. Then Jesus was sitting at the end of a bunk bed while a mother cared for her sick child. He had a look of tenderness and compassion on his face. Then Jesus was in the kitchen when a married couple screamed at one another. In that frame he drank a cup of coffee and had a look that seemed to say, “I know you think this is important, but none of it is going to matter.”
The reel went on with other scenarios, and no matter how tender, silly, or tongue-in-cheek some of the moments came across, the message was clear: God is with us.
I thought of this in relation to Advent. We spend this time waiting and hoping for our Savior, just as the Israelites did over 2000 years ago. We want Emmanuel, God with us—when he is right here with us.
In Advent, we wait just as Mary and Joseph did that last month before Jesus was born in that stable in Bethlehem 2000 years ago. But we also wait for the Second Coming. All of this waiting is wrapped up in our hopes and dreams of connection with our Savior—when he is right here.
Jesus is here in the intimacies of our Advent waiting. As we quiet ourselves and simplify our lives, he is here. As we build with our children the gingerbread house from the kit, Jesus is there at the table, knowing that Madison always eats the gumdrops before anyone can put them on the house. Jesus is there when the cases of RSV crash our December plans once again. And as we sing our Advent hymns of longing at Mass, he is standing next to us in the pew.
How do we practice noticing that presence for which we long? It might be easier than we think. Instead of getting caught up in the busyness of this last month leading up to Christmas, we can simply pray in the moment, “Where are you, Lord?” Especially in that busyness pray that prayer, “Where are you, Lord?” Chances are by simply praying that prayer, you will feel him right beside you.
This is friendship with Jesus: inviting him into these spaces. He is already there. If you had a guest in your house, wouldn’t you acknowledge that person’s presence? Wouldn’t you include your guest in the activity?
This is the beautiful mystery of the hope of Advent, that yes, we look forward to being with Jesus in the future in a different, deeper, and more tangible way but also that we have hope, because he is right here with us now.
Where are you, Lord?
I wait in hope for your coming, but I know you are here now too.
Open the eyes of my heart to notice your presence now, amid the waiting and in the midst of the daily tasks of life.
May my hope be in you.
