‘Do you feel the world is broken?’ ‘We do.’
So begins Andrew Peterson’s 2018 song, Is He Worthy?, which seems to have became a much-loved classic in Christian homes around the world – and ours is no exception.
Whether it’s the mundane and frustrating or the harrowing and horrific, often now when my wife or I encounter something that confronts us with the brokenness of the world, one of us is likely to pipe up: ‘Do you feel the world is broken? …’
And given the last 18 months especially, no one can escape that reality. Then add to the grief and disorientation of the pandemic the reality of racial tensions, church scandals and a seeming climate crisis. We have all been through collective trauma.
If you’re anything like me, that means Christmas is something of a gear shift. Adverts with sleigh-bell soundtracks blare out from the TV and radio. Coffee chains start to push overpriced sugar-laced drinks in supposedly festive cups. The Most Wonderful Time Of Year? Or just a corporate consumeristic coping strategy built around self-distraction?!
In other words, Mr Peterson, yes, we do feel the world is broken, but our human default is to downplay those feelings pretty quickly. And this is precisely why I think the season of Advent is such a gift to us.
Looking back, looking forward
Taking its name from the Latin, adventus, literally meaning ‘coming’ (itself derived from the Greek, parousia), it seems that fourth-century Christians developed Advent as a season of baptism preparation to help new converts look back to the long-foretold first coming of the Messiah and look forward to His coming again.
Of course, the concept of marking a ‘Christian year’ isn’t commanded in the Bible. Yet many churches and denominations have found it a helpful way to engage richly in the various theological emphases of those historical events – and to see them as part of one narrative that shapes our collective lives.
So why bother with Advent? That’s like asking why we need to learn to long for the return of Christ! The author Tish Harrison Warren expresses it perfectly:
‘To practice Advent is to lean into an almost cosmic ache: our deep, wordless desire for things to be made right and the incompleteness we find in the meantime.’
By focusing our hearts on the first and second appearances of Jesus Christ, Advent is an opportunity to face up to the darkness in order to appreciate the light. The world might try and dull the pain of our suffering, but the refreshing news is that Scripture never does.
Ruth and the kindness of God
So where might we go this Advent? Well, a few years ago we opted to journey slowly through a seemingly surprising portion of Scripture: the book of Ruth.
Beginning with death, grief and a famine, it’s a story that doesn’t hold back from the reality of suffering. Shockingly, the cupboards are bare in Bethlehem, tragic for a town whose very name meant ‘house of bread’. God’s people were on a downward spiral of disobedience and idolatry (Ruth 1:1; Judges 21:25).
Embodied in the dazzling yet surprising characters of Ruth and Boaz, we discover afresh the steadfast kindness of God. I became convinced that Ruth’s message was a precious and refreshing balm for Advent. We all know the Christmas story, but Ruth gives us the story behind the Christmas story.
Marking Advent might not have been part of your personal or church tradition. But ultimately it’s not about us needing Advent. When faced with our brokenness and depravity, it’s all too easy to turn away. But the gift of the gospel is that God doesn’t turn away. What we all need is Christ.
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