Advent has become one of my favorite seasons because it honors the time we spend waiting and hoping for whatever is "next." I've spent so much time and heart energy waiting, hoping, anticipating-- in relationships, education, work, life in general. During Advent I remember the beauty and importance of the time I spend in anticipation.

I've had a little more time and space to reflect on Advent and the Christmas season this year. Usually about this time I have eaten my way through 86/100 Christmas parties, am 10 pounds heavier from the delicious excesses, exhausted from making/writing/addressing cards and shopping, and ready to punch a reindeer if I hear another rendition of "Here Comes Santa Clause." :)

However, this year, if it weren't for Facebook status updates I think I may have forgotten all about holiday baking and hanging Christmas lights. And except for the occassional holiday TV commercial or newspaper advertisement, and sparse decorations, it doesn't "feel" much like Christmas. As I write this I am sitting on the porch in a tank top, jeans and flip flops and it "feels" like August, not December!

This year I find myself in rural western Kenya, and I feel desperate for the hope of Jesus more than I ever have.

The Old Testament prophets spoke again and again of God bringing his Kingdom to fullness: Israel was promised to be a center of justice and prosperity. They would be at peace with other nations, and in fact, those nations would come streaming to Mount Zion to worship. So they waited, hoped, anticipated. For years they expected God to move, to bring peace, glory, justice, security, assurance.

We find ourselves under similar circumstances. Jesus came proclaiming that His Kingdom of restoration was near us and within us, and promising to return to bring complete restoration to the earth and humanity. So we wait, hope, anticipate, not only for Jesus to return but also to see restoration now, in our daily lives.

As I sit with people infected with HIV and other diseases, rape survivors, kids who need food, clothes and school fees, I look into the face of hopelessness and I cry out "Lord, the promise of your Kingdom is justice, peace, restoration, provision! Bring it now! Right here!"

I have observed (at least) two things about hope: 1) I am not Jesus and I am not the source of hope. Thank God. 2) My current faith level is sufficient to say "God is faithful, it will work out" to a friend finalizing an offer on a house, but not to an orphaned high school kid who is not sure where her next meal will come from, much less her school fees because her caretaker would rather spend the little money he has on alcohol rather than provide for her. I have found myself speechless in the hearing of such stories-- thinking of a million things I could say but not really sure I believe any of them. "Lord you have to show up. You have to bring hope here. I have no idea what to say. I believe you but help me in my unbelief!"

So as Israel cried out "How long oh Lord?!" my heart echoes the same cry this Advent. "God, where else can we go? You are the source of life! Come heal, restore. Be Emmanuel, God With Us. Here, now!"

I am desperate for hope. Its a little more vulnerable than I am comfortable with, because if he doesn't come, it will be devastating. But I think he will-- I am waiting, hoping, anticipating.

"The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it was written: 'The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has annointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.' Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fastened on him, and he began by saying to them, 'Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.' "
-Luke 4.17-21