 |
| All Creation Groans |
“Oh that you would tear
open the heavens and come down, that the mountains might quake at your
presence!”[1]
Hope and lament, wonder and revulsion, justice and
unmitigated terror: this is the world we inhabit, a world groaning not only
with the birth pangs of new creation, but with the death throes of the old order. Friday delivered another stab in the heart,
one more reason to hate and one less reason to live.[2]
Newtown reminds us that we inhabit a time between times, when our joys and our
sorrows are mere inches apart. And in
the stark reality that horror brings, we cling to the faint hope of a creation “where there will be no more death or
mourning, nor crying or pain.”[3]
It may be altogether fitting to be reminded of this paradox during Advent, a
season when all mankind yearns for deliverance from evil. It is this season of preparation and
anticipation that points toward the coming of the Holy One, the Messiah, whose
righteous reign will finally and forever more bring peace and goodwill on earth. It is this world, which is ‘here
but not yet’ that we long for. But for
now, this present darkness casts a long shadow over our future hope.
John the Baptizer knew this ambiguity all too well. The one who first proclaimed the way of the
Lord is suffering bewilderment. After
ushering in the Kingdom of God, calling Israel to repentance and baptizing
Jesus into the Jordan, this new Elijah finds himself rotting in prison,
awaiting execution. The highway he
prepared has come to a dead end.
“When the men came to Jesus, they said, ‘John the Baptist sent us to
you to ask, ‘Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone
else?’”[4]
This ‘greatest born of woman’ is
now doubting the one whose sandals he had been unfit to tie. Are you really
the ‘One’ he asks, because if you are, why am I about to die? We can’t help but join John’s entreaty of
Jesus. Why do we still suffer Lord, if
you really came to save us? Where are you when our are babies are ripped apart in the womb? Where were you when are our children's bodies were mowed down like grass before the sickle? Like John, we may not doubt God’s existence,
but we certainly question his justice. And suddenly, the man of sorrows answers, "I am here on the path to Golgotha."
Advent asks us to abide
in the paradox between the trough and the cross, to remember that Christmas isn’t simply about lowing cattle and kneeling shepherds, it is also a divine reckoning, when the
Lord finally bares his Holy arm before the nations by sentencing his Son to death. Advent is
abiding in the dark silhouette of the cross as it looms over the manger. It is the anticipation, through the death of Christ, of a new way, a new world. But this way is not simply a new path navigating through the destruction and death of this
world, but an entirely new creation birthed out of the death of the old. In Christ, a new day is dawning when the
“blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf
hear, the dead are raised and the good news is preached to the poor.”[5]
We are not alone in our anguish,
we worship the God despised and rejected by men. This baby will share our
grief. His fingers will carry our sorrow and his tiny head will be crushed for
our iniquity. He will be well acquainted
with grief and from his death will spring forth new life. “For behold, I create
new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or
ever come to mind.”[6]
Blessed is he who does not fall
away as we prepare once again the way of the Lord…
No comments:
Post a Comment