Advent: What are We Waiting For?

My years in evangelical Christianity were Advent-free.

Not everyone’s experience is the same, so maybe Advent is something you have observed and cherished for years. But I sense that, in general, conservative evangelical Christianity is allergic to Advent. Maybe it’s the chemicals in the candles.

But it’s more likely a theological allergy. Advent is a time of waiting—and waiting is hard. It reveals our weakness, our impatience, our many other limitations. Waiting is almost a form of lament.

And this, ultimately, is why I think so many of us ex-vangelicals are Advent rookies: we’ve been taught to avoid lament at all costs.

Advent and Lament

How is Advent related to lament? As I mentioned, waiting is hard. But more than that, there is the question of what we’re waiting for—and what its current absence means for us.

Consider some (English-translated) lyrics from the beloved carol, “O Holy Night”:

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,
And in his name, all oppression shall cease.

Good news is coming, to be sure. But before it (or he, since Jesus embodies the news) appears, what is true? The world is pining in sin and error. The soul does not yet feel its own worth. Chains remain unbroken, and oppression continues.

Part of declaring that we are waiting for good news is admitting that it has not fully arrived yet. And if it hasn’t completely arrived, then we must acknowledge that we are still living through error, sin, slavery, and oppression.

This situates the entire Advent observance very similarly to the Holy Saturday of our Easter celebrations. We look ahead in hope to good news—and yet, in the meantime, we must grieve the death, the incompleteness, of our present moment.

Or consider the oft-unsung third stanza of “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”:

And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow:
Look now! For glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
and hear the angels sing!

This song is actually pretty brilliant. The first (and famous) verse looks back to the clear midnight when angels first sang about Christ’s birth. The middle two verses beckon us to listen—amid a world that is crushing and painful—to hear those angels still singing. Then the song’s final section looks ahead to that day

when peace shall over all the earth
its ancient splendors fling,
and the whole world send back the song
which now the angels sing.

In the future, not only will the angels still be singing, but we will join the world in singing back their song.

Embracing the Both/And

So is Advent a time for rejoicing or lamenting?

The answer is both. As we acknowledge that there is still pain, death, sin, and oppression in this world, we also look forward in hope that, partially by our own partnership with God in works of justice and peace, things can and will be better. But this hope, if it doesn’t see, doesn’t feel, the weight of the world’s sorrows, rings hollow.

I’m not necessarily trying to make this post just another in a long line of dunks on evangelicalism. But it’s worth noting that we have returned to the reason so many of us grew up with no Advent. White conservative evangelicalism, especially that in the church growth movement, has been calibrated for nearly 100% celebration/praise and 0% lament/mourning. According to Soong-Chan Rah’s Prophetic Lament, this obsession with praise and aversion to lament has caused the tradition to exult in successes and to silence the voices of the marginalized.

It has also led, in my opinion, to the erasure of Advent. Anything beyond lighting a candle and reading a brief prayer is too intense, too raw, too sad. Far easier to just sing “Joy to the World” and preach about how Jesus already came, already forgave us all, already secured our place in heaven. The good news already came, so why would we subject ourselves to more waiting?

But in Advent, the season of “now and not yet,” we can celebrate that Jesus has come while still waiting for chains to be broken, for justice to roll down like waters.

For the soul to feel its worth.

If you’d like to explore the layers of Advent with a community of new friends, sign up here to check out our weekly gatherings.