Why Advent Hope Still Matters
The longing that lights our way
Our family dog was not on my mind when I lit the candle of hope on the first Sunday of Advent for our kids’ worship service at church. Even though the previous day we had noticed some serious swelling under his right eye and were concerned about a tooth infection as the probable cause, I was focused on doing my job as Director of Children and Family Ministry that morning.
I said the words of the simple liturgy to the small group of four- to ten-year-olds sitting in front of me and then expounded on the meaning of Advent as we watched the flame dance in the purple pillar candle.
“We are counting down the Sundays until Christmas Day,” I explained, “when we will celebrate Jesus’s birth. Advent is a time of waiting, and we are still waiting for Jesus’s return.”
I was interrupted by a nine-year-old boy in the back, whose hand shot up in the air as he blurted: “He’s coming BACK??” with the kind of amazement reserved for moon landings or lottery winnings. I nodded, holding back a giggle, but a laugh did escape my lips when he demanded: “When?”
The following morning, as I readied Paco for a trip to the vet, hope must have been on my mind because I packed a slice of cheese in my purse, thinking that he would need a treat after his appointment. Paco is a chihuaha-mix who followed us home one day a dozen years ago. Once we washed the filth off of his black fur and fed him, he wouldn’t leave. I remember I was supposed to find another home for him. I remember I didn’t try very hard. His snuggle game and his fetching instincts were strong: what else would anyone want in a dog?
We put a collar on him, got him neutered, and he’s been by our side ever since.
Because we now figure his age to be around 13 or 14, my husband and I had a brief conversation the night before his vet visit about the cost of any needed procedures. Since we didn’t know how much time he has left, we agreed that if the cost was above a certain amount, we would have to have a hard conversation.
Then I went to bed and our little chat evaporated with the morning dew.
When the vet finished her initial evaluation, she called his mouth “a disaster.” Surgery would be needed to remove his abscessed tooth as well as several others that were leaking puss. I sat numbly in the reception area, with HGTV droning in the background, while the vet continued to talk about treatment.
It was with foolish hope that I walked over to the counter to get a cost estimate. Even here, at our trusted discount vet, the range was between three to four times the number my husband and I had discussed the night before, a number that came crashing back to my memory.
Author and theologian Parker J. Palmer says:
“Hope is holding a creative tension between what is and what could be, each day doing something to narrow the distance between the two.”
I did not hold that creative tension well as I called my husband and burst into tears. We didn’t know if Paco had two more good weeks, months, or years left and so any decision we made felt like a risk. But since he was an otherwise healthy dog, we chose to pay the price to extend his life.
The cost of love is always high because loss is inherent in our fallen world.
God knew perfectly well what could be because that is how Creation was designed from the beginning—to be with God in the garden. But during Advent, we look around at what is and we acknowledge the darkness, we feel the long distance between our sad present and the future we long for. And, like that nine-year-old boy, demand “When?”
We light the candle of hope because, though our circumstances will never save us, Jesus will. We sing “Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus” because our longing for what could be points us to God, our harbinger of hope. And we continue to live out God’s story as we do our daily part to “narrow the distance” between what is and what could be. To walk in hope is to take steps—however small—to bring about the world that could be, a world of joy, peace, and love.
When I picked up our dog from surgery, he had lost 27 teeth. He licked his mouth over and over on the car ride home, no doubt confused by the 11 teeth he had left and dismayed by the new cone around his neck. I knew the next few days would be tough: administering medicine and trying to manage his discomfort. But I tried to envision the time ahead, when he would be recovered and back to his healthy self, always down to chase a ball or cuddle on the couch.
Just as Advent reminds us year after year, we walk through the darkness to get to the Light.
You won’t want to miss this conversation with author and lay theologian Chelsea Kim Long! We chat about faith, embodiment, and how our journey of following Jesus evolves over time. Chelsea shares how motherhood and doubt reshaped her spiritual life and led her toward a more embodied, and compassionate faith. She reflects on finding healing in intentional Christian community, expanding her theology of womanhood, and discovering how our bodies help us encounter God in daily life.
This episode is a balm for anyone rethinking their faith, longing for belonging, or curious about how God meets us in our real, lived experiences. Listen here and get the show notes here.
Something that made me laugh: I may have a problem!
Something I read and loved: Why Everything You Know About the Nativity is Probably Wrong by Sarah Bessey. Really enjoyed this! She writes: “The Christmas story isn’t one of loneliness and quiet isolation in the darkness. This is a story of welcome and hospitality, of lamplight and family, of birth in all its incredible sacred humanness, entrenched in a culture and in a time and within a family.”
Something I listened to: “The beginning of peace is feeling seen in our hard places.” I simply loved this episode from The Alabaster Jar, titled Hannah’s Story and the Gift of Peace (with Rev. Dr. Tracey Bianchi).
Something I’m cooking: This Pesto Rice Bake is a cinch to put together and filling, too!
I may have shared this before, but it’s FREE so it’s worth sharing again! I hope you enjoy my 12 Days of Christmas Printable Lectio Divina Journal! All you have to do is click the button to download it:
Until next time,
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I love your analogy and descriptions of hope. We went through a similar situation with our dog. She is now passed but we had an additional year with her. The tension is real.