Not long ago I was interviewed by The Washington Post, and as the journalist walked into my office he was taken aback. I introduced him to three of my staff members while we made our way back to my personal office. As we were sitting down to talk, he mentioned he was somewhat surprised.
We see the madness of today and hope for a better tomorrow. We don’t know exactly how to hope or how to express it. But whether we realize it or not, we all hope and wait for Hope to return. This Advent, we need him again—to restore and reconcile and bring justice and grace and peace. This is our potent hope.
Advent is like the wallflower at a techno-dance party. It is the tea in a world of coffee drinkers. It is the silent prayer uttered in a Pentecostal-style worship service. It is the grief of a person in the midst of a Christmas party. Advent is the silent night between the wrapped Christmas trees glaring light. It takes paying attention. And it takes extraordinary religious discipline to carve out this space.