Waiting and watching: An Advent meditation on Psalm 130

“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:5

I've done a lot of waiting in my life. Who hasn't? In fifty-three years of living, I've waited for the fish to bite or a deer to walk in the vicinity of my stand on far too many occasions. I've waited anxiously for Santa or my birthday to come. I've waited in lines, in lobbies and in traffic too. I've waited for summer vacation, graduation and wedding day. I've waited for a call to a congregation. I've waited for some babies to be born. Yeah, I've put in my time. And whether it's sitting for hours in the cold woods or in slow moving traffic with all the windows down on a hot day, waiting seems like such a great waste of time. Like Seuss calls it in his renowned Oh! The Places You'll Go! the “Waiting Place” is – or certainly feels - like a very useless place indeed. There, as he puts it, people are just waiting

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

As Seuss' story continues he exhorts his listener to move on to better things. “NO! That's not for you!” But of course, as everyone knows, no matter where you're from or who you know in your life you will be forced to wait from time to time whether you like it or not. But instead of being stuck in traffic you may find yourself at the bedside of your parent who no longer knows who you are while you keep vigil and wait for them to die. Or instead of standing in what seems a never-ending check-out line at Wal-Mart, inexplicably you are holding the hand of your child whose body is slowly succumbing to the cancer within. I know a few people waiting for a “Better Break” or “Another Chance”. You probably do too. Clearly some kinds of waiting consume far more than just precious minutes from our day.

The people of Israel were waiting too. They were waiting for Better Days. They were an occupied people – something that you and I know nothing about. As much as we like to complain about the Government and those who run it at least its our government and there's always the chance in the next election cycle To Do Something About It. But they were subjects of a pagan emperor who had placed a sadistically ambitious king over to rule over some of Caesar's most unruly subjects. The fact that Herod wasn't even Jewish certainly added to their mutual feeling of acrimony. Far more than waiting they were longing for Way Better Days.

In those days three times a year Jewish men were required to appear in Jerusalem to worship at the Temple for the great feasts of Passover, Pentecost and Tabernacles. Following the principle that there was safety in numbers, they would make their journey to David's City in great caravans of pilgrims. Tradition has it that as they made their way they would sing pilgrim songs among them those found in our Bibles today and referred to as the Psalms of ascents (Psalm 120-134). Built atop an old mountain to travel to Israel's most holy city you were always going “up.” Two thirds through that section of the psalter is Psalm 130, a song about waiting that begins with an anguished cry, “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy” (vv. 1-2).

“Help, GOD – the bottom has fallen out of my life!” is how one version translates verse 1. I'm a volunteer chaplain at the Barron County Justice Center and frequently when someone gets locked up they begin praying from the hole they find themselves in. It's often called “jailhouse religion”, a “come-to-Jesus” condition that people frequently get over once the worst is over. I'm sure its a close cousin of what soldiers call “foxhole religion”. When things are going to hell, “HELP!” is one of those ABC kind of prayers that people almost instinctively begin to pray. And the good news is that despite whatever track record we may have, despite our bad behavior that may have led us to end up in a boatload of trouble, God hears. “If you, GOD, kept records on wrongdoings, who would stand a chance? As it turns out, forgiveness is your habit, and that's why you're worshiped” (vv. 3-4). In other words, even if I've really messed up I'm still clear to use the “red phone” to heaven and I'm guaranteed there will be no busy signal when I do. “Call to me and I will answer you” (Jer 33:3) is a promise we can take to the bank.

But as everyone knows that there often long, sometimes painful delays, between our prayer and the answer to it. Out of our anguish we begin to pray for our prodigal son to come home even as he seems hellbent on running the opposite way. We pray for our spouse to turn-around, to return to their marital covenant, to wake-up and smell the coffee while at the same time they seem tone deaf to the voice of the Spirit. In the same way, the people of God were crying for deliverance, for Messiah to come and rescue them from Rome's oppression. Like the good folk of Narnia under the boot of the White Witch who had caused everything to “be always winter and never Christmas”, they were longing for spring. “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning” (vv. 5-6).

That was a prayer maybe a thousand or more years in the making that they looked to God to answer far more than the guards standing post on their city's walls looked for the sunrise to appear. Finally God answered that prayer albeit not in the way they expected him to. They were asking for an über warrior-prince in the fashion of King David of old to deal with the Roman problem. Instead he sent them a baby born in a stable to a poor couple from Galilee, a decidedly anti-climatic response to a nation's cry for help. Never mind it was just what the doctor ordered, it was the Deliverer that they really needed not the one they asked for. In hindsight, present day disciples of Jesus know it was the better deal but at the time it was incredibly discombobulating to the lot of them.

We're no longer waiting for Jesus to come and be born in the manger. It's a wonderful story that bears repeating at least once a year, of how God stepped into our world, bridging the gap that separated us from him and provided deliverance from our sin. It speaks of God's love and his character. Now we're waiting for him to come again, to heal this world of its sickness, of its cruelty and its hate. Every time we hear of another mass shooting, of a child abused or abandoned by their parent, of a woman sold into the sex trade, or of innocent lives snuffed out by natural or man-made disaster, our hearts convulse with another prayer of waiting found in the second to last verse of the Bible: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus” (Revelation 22:20, NASB).

As we travel “up” in our journey in life, while we wait for the Lord to come (again), we are reminded by those ancient travelers of the same road to put our hope in the Lord “for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins” (vv. 7-8). So “the waiting place” that seems such a waste of time and energy becomes a place where hope is nurtured and trust is fashioned. And its things like that – hope and faith as well as love - that makes life worth living and strengthens our confidence that when he comes again he'll bring a better world with him.

Maranatha! Come, Lord Jesus!