I like Advent. Maybe it’s just the simplicity of lighting a candle or two and not imparting some power to it that it does not have that I like. It’s not an incantation, but it is a physical act that I do with Scripture and prayer and other people.

So, we have the wreath on our table and we light the candles, both at home and at church and even in Kindergarten Bible school, but with battery-operated candles.

As we approach the season, I sometimes get Advent all mixed up. What does the first candle represent? Yesterday I asked my wife, “What is the first candle again?” It’s a purple candle, I know, not the pink one.

Waiting, she said. Looking back. The prophets.

Oh yeah. Looking back at those who looked ahead. AD looking at BC. Before O Holy Night, the weary world is, well, weary. Weary and waiting. Before Jesus called the disciples, they fished or doctored or collected taxes or did what Pharisees do. Simeon at the temple almost all of his life doing what he needed to do but waiting.

Ordinary life waiting for extraordinary.

Advent is about waiting. You know how I said I liked Advent. Well, maybe when it comes to waiting, not so much.

Last week in Kindergarten, I read the children the first half of a story about a heroic Christian. I stopped. Can’t we keep going? they asked. No, we’ll have to wait for the rest of the story next Sunday. We don’t love the wait. We want the story to advance. Waiting is not always easy.

It should be said that as an American, I do not do waiting so well. Waiting in lines are the most obvious examples.

I remember being in Soviet Moscow and asking someone at the end of a line what they were waiting in line to buy. We don’t know, they said, but with this many people in line, we figure we don’t have it and must need it.

One spring break in England, we went to a castle. It was a bank holiday, and the castle was filled with adults, children and students. We stood in the orderly line with the others to go up the highest tower. We dutifully walked in a slow line up the dark spiral stairs. When we reached the top, we discovered the only thing to do was join the line of people at the top queuing up to go back down. The line snaked its way round the tower, so we did see the 360-degree-view from the top, but, only from the queue.

Somehow, I don’t imagine the same line scenarios going so well here.

Trying to guess the shortest, fastest gas line in the Costco two-pump lines. Which grocery store line will be the fastest—the shortest is not always the fastest. I won’t even dwell on the security lines at O’Hare and Midway.

Prophets spoke to the people of their day, but so much of what they said predicted Jesus, waiting, longing, their words promising.

My human heart waits for the love that is stronger than death. It waits, but it does not always wait well.

Jesus, we don’t come to you though the longing is undeniable. Instead, we become impatient and go on our way. We don’t want to wait for you. But out of the silence as we turned our eyes to other things, big and small, you came. You come. When we were far away, when we are far away, you came, you come.

Just as I am—without one plea,
Find rest in love prophets promised me,
They spoke of the one they could not see.
O Lamb of God, you came, you come.

Just as I am—and waiting not
Impatient with sin and my own rot
You love the whole deplorable lot—
O Lamb of God, you came, you come.

Just as I am—though tossed about
Your enemy me, I curse and shout
On my own I’m not clean within, without—
O Lamb of God, you came, you come.

Just as I am—poor, wretched, blind;
Seeking riches, fame, the enlightened mind,
In catacombs of self you redeem, you find—
O Lamb of God, you came, you come.

Just as you are—Incarnate divine,
Both God and man, bread and wine.
The fish-filled nets, in the dark you shine
O Lamb of God, you came, you come.

Just as you are—the demons flee
The storm is stilled, the blind can see;
To you alone all glory be—
O Lamb of God, you came, you come.

Just as you are—of that free love
The breadth, length, depth, and height above,
Here for a season, then above—
O Lamb of God, you came, you come!