Watch and Pray

Tuesday, December 8, 2020

Luke 21:32-36

“Truly I tell you, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.

“Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with hangovers, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you suddenly like a trap. For it will come on all those who live on the face of the whole earth. Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man.”

Dear Friends,

The similarities of this passage with yesterday’s from Mark’s Gospel are uncanny, but I appreciate Luke’s attention to detail as it allows my imagination some breathing room. Again, this passage is End Times-y, catapulting me back to that Left Behind song once more. It’s hard to write an encouraging Advent reflection with a slightly PTSD-type triggering canticle shivering it’s way through me. Even though these biblical passages have shifted for me through wise theologians’ exegetical work, I still must shrug off old layers of thinking when approaching Christ’s words. While these powerful words were told to specific people at a specific time and place, I believe they still have meaning for us today, as we long for Christ to come near.

The Jerusalem Temple was considered the Holy Center of Creation. It was where heaven and earth mingled and met. The outer-outer courts of the Temple represented the sea, the outer courts was the earth, and the inner courts was like the Garden of Eden, and the inner-inner (the Holy of Holies) was where heaven met earth—God’s presence housed.

For Jesus’s disciples to hear that the holy center of creation would pass away, that the closest they could ever get to heaven on this side of eternity would be no more and that they would physically witness its demise, would have thrashed them. Grief would have bulldozed over them without giving them a moment to ponder. 

We know about 30-40 years later, Jerusalem, full of pilgrims during Passover, was sacked by Rome. A million people were killed in the siege and thousands were captured to later fill the colosseums and perish as gladiators. Historian Josephus, accounts the Temple’s stones and pillars falling into dust while Roman soldiers marched through the city carrying the Menorah and the gold table like they were merely spoils of war. The holy center of creation was destroyed and the presence of God was slandered.

When that took place, do you think the disciples were just like, “Cheer up, old chap! Remember that Jesus said we didn’t have to worry? That he’s overcome the world?” I don’t think it was that easy. I never think someone’s world crashing around them is that easy, though we want to make it into so. We say things like, “Everything happens for a reason,” or “God never gives you more than you can handle.” I call bull-****. 

I think we’re always given more than we can handle. Maybe God isn’t giving it to us, but life keeps throwing-up in our faces and it is certainly more than we can handle. And I believe it’s okay to admit that. 

The thing is, our Western American Christian mindset is so heretically independent and individualistic that we believe we have to handle it all on our own in silent and personal grief. 

We were never meant to walk on our own. Right now your life might be crumbling around you, like stones and pillars falling into dust, and your expectations might be  marched around the city by a pandemic. (I know, not the same thing at all; but hardship is hardship and it’s really hard right now.) But we were never meant to “keep calm and carry on” by ourselves. Heaven and earth, the Temple, everyone’s eggs in one basket DID pass away and it was horrific, but the Word-made-flesh will never pass away. You are not alone in your suffering, heartbreak, and weariness. 

Jesus invited his disciples then, and us now, to not numb ourselves or escape through substances to avoid the hard parts of life. You know what escapism has been like in many ways. Throughout this pandemic, you’ve watched too much Netflix. You’ve eaten too many fries. You’ve drunk too much wine. You’ve slept too many hours. You’ve probably neglected yourself, your loved ones, your responsibilities, and your relationship with God. And you may have found yourself trapped, hungover by the waste of it all. 

Me too. But we’re not alone even in that. Jesus comes near and meets you there and invites you to remember he’s with you. And I want you to know I’m with you, too. We’re in this together. 

So may you prepare-room to watch and pray. May a new perspective of God’s faithful nearness wash over you every time you want to check-out or numb the fear, anger, or heartache away. And may you know you are loved throughout every storm and trial this Advent. 

With (love),

Bethany