How will we know when this time is at hand? The Old Testament and Gospel lessons today portray the sheer impossibility of missing the signs of the Kingdomıs impending arrival.

It will be as plain as mountains splitting in half or a radical change
in the character and position of the sun, the moon and the stars.

In other words, heaven and earth will look very different to us
in the light of this new Kingdom's dawning.

It does not really matter what the specific signs will be.
What matters is that we recognize them as the heralds of the coming age.
In the Gospel according to Luke, Jesus assures his hearers
that they'll know the signs when they see them.

If we can tell that summer is coming when we see the vibrant green of early spring leaves, we will know Kingdom signs when we see them. One season invariably follows another. The Kingdom is not here yet. But it is coming.

So, we wait.

But there are different kinds of waiting.
Advent is not like waiting for a bus.
We are not stuck immobile, killing time, while we wait for transport.
There are things to do, and we cannot simply remain seated.
We have life to live while we wait for the age to come.
Advent waiting is active waiting.

But what does active waiting look like?

Active waiting is not the same as fidgeting.
Have you ever watched children in the waiting room
of a doctor's office when it is time for annual immunizations?

Some children thrash and yell. Others pick and fidget.
All these children are full of nervous energy that accomplishes nothing except exhaustion.
Some parts of life, even those that lead to health, are painful.
But the only way around these difficult parts is through them.

Advent waiting can be like labor pains. New birth will be the result,
but the process can be long and painful. Births happen when they happen.
Our role, however active, is to wait for the baby to arrive.

Even the everyday act of growing up is fraught with challenging times

in which waiting is at the heart of the matter. It is not time for certain things, until it is time.

If you have ever been a teenager you know how maddeningly real this waiting stuff is.
And you know that the "right time" is often not a fixed day or date.
All of adolescence is an advent time.

Have you ever watched an adult who is waiting in a situation
where they are clearly not in control, and they know it? Some bluster or threaten.
Others grow critical of themselves or others. Blame flies. Guilt heaps up.

All of these adults are full of nervous energy that accomplishes nothing except exhaustion.
The kingdom will not be hurried in by furious fretting.
The world will not find its fulfillment simply by more strenuous trying on our parts.
Often we find that we must wait. We wait for the results of a medical test. We wait to hear how many positions will be downsized and whether ours was one of them.We wait to hear whether our proposal was accepted, if the new job offer will come,

or if we will receive the promotion for which we we were hoping.

Sometimes there are things to do while we wait.
But sometimes there is nothing to do but wait.
Wisdom is in knowing the difference.

But then there are those glorious moments that come, unbidden.
Those times and events, beyond our control, that redeem what has been,
and disclose what will be. Advent is like the instant just before we recognize that we have fallen in love. Advent is like the child in the snowsuit ­ standing on dry leaves, looking through clear air at the still gray sky ­ straining to see the first flake falling.

Advent waiting is being open. It is a willingness to respond.
Advent waiting is faithful waiting ­ holding fast to the belief
that all will be well in Godıs time.

Advent waiting is faithful action ­ acting as though we may find Christ standing right next to us when we straighten up from tying a childıs shoe or as we turn from handing a sandwich to a man on the street.

In 1885 Leo Tolstoy wrote a story called "Where Love is God Is"

In this story, Tolstoy tells of a cobbler named Martin. Martin had a tiny room in a basement, the one window of which looked out on to the street. One could only see the feet of those who passed by, but Martin recognized the people by their boots.

Martin was a good man. He did good, honest work at a fair price. But Martin seemed to have suffered one loss and disappointment after another in his life. He once had several children, all of them but one had died in their infancy. Just before Martin finished his work as a journeyman cobber, his wife died. When Martin went to set up shop for himself he concluded that he would raise his remaining son himself rather than send him to live with his aunt. Then the boy died in their first year in the shop. Martin was entering his old age with no family and no one to whom to pass on his business. Martin was becoming bitter.

Then a client suggested to Martin that he should read the Gospels. Each night Martin would lay down his tools and pick up the bible. Martin would light the lamp and then he would read. In time Martin found that he was embracing his life as it was. He was also growing in his eagerness to read more of the gospel stories. These stories were redeeming his life and filling the empty places in Martin's heart. One night Martin slipped into reverie, or perhaps it was sleep. He heard a voice say "tomorrow I will come to vist you." Martin jolted awake and wondered whether he had heard this or simply dreamed it. Martin was sure that the voice had been the Christ.

Martin was attentive, and eager, when morning came. He did his work with his usual care and focus but he was expectant as each new pair of feet walked past his window. Throughout the course of the day Martin went out and greeted various people. Some he fed. He warmed an old man with cup after cup of hot tea from the brass samover in the shop. Martin reconciled a young boy and the old grandmother from whom the boy has stolen an apple. Martin gave the grandmother his own cloak, and offered to buy the apple for the boy. By the time their interaction was done, the boy was carrying the big bag of apples down the street for the Grandmother. The woman had been sad and angry. Now she was warm and smiling as she and the boy moved out of sight.

That night Martin again read the gospels by lamplight. Once again he grew drowsy. He thought that he saw the old man, the boy and the Grandmother step out of the shadows one at a time to tell him that he had given them food, or drink, or clothes to wear. Martin had a spark of recognition. He had been visited by the Christ, just as he had expected.

Martin's day was an advent day, part of a season wrapped in expectation and shot through with scripture and prayer. Martin learned to look for Christ. And one day he saw him.

We see that for which we are looking.
If we think that life is brutish, nasty and short,
we will find supporting evidence all around us.
If we think that Christ may show up at any minute
We will tend to discover Him in our daily life.
If we think that God is faithful and that God's promised kingdom will come,
even suffering and great difficulties can be seen in a vastly different light

When Sonya, a character in Anton Chechov's play, Uncle Vanya,
speaks of how it shall be on that day when this present life passes away,
there is no crash of shattered mountains, no roaring of the seas.

Sonya says:

"We shall hear the angels. We shall see heaven all shining with diamonds.
We shall see all evil and all our pain sink away in the great compassion that shall enfold the world. Our life will be as peaceful and tender and sweet as a caress."

O come O come Emmanuel and wipe clean the slate this Advent. Wipe clean the tears from our faces and the sins from our hearts. Break down the mountains of our resistance, and if necessary, move the very planets so that, at the end, nothing shall stand between us and the love of God.