Wait and See

Based on Matthew 24:36-44
Can one truly be human and not be impatient?



We human beings have the gift of imagination which means we also have the ability to live in the future. Some of my happiest times have been those when I imagine what a party is going to be like, or what I’ll see when I open a package, or what I’ll feel when I hold my grandchild in my arms. The bliss of imagining future joys has always been one of my favorite pastimes.



Of course, it also has a dark cousin: anxiety and fear are products of the imagination that can cripple the strongest person. The one who dwells in the halls of perpetual dread knows the tortures of hell. For them, there is scarcely a sillier word of advice than the assurance, “Don’t worry.” “Don’t worry? “Who wants to worry, for heaven’s sake. But I can’t help it. I was born worrying.”



Daydreamers and doomsayers both reside in a future that rarely ever turns out the way they thought it would. But they share something in common: the dread of waiting.



Down through history, Christians have had to make peace with what appears to be an endless waiting. Many speculations have been spread abroad about the “end time”, or the return of Jesus. Although the scripture clearly states “No one knows when it will come,” such advice rarely puts an end to the speculations. So many dates have been set, and then broken, that fewer and fewer people put much stock in these announcements. Still, we are as curious as we ever were wondering, “Could this be it?” The fact that the world has not come to an end would seem proof that we could better spend our time reading “War and Peace” or painting a new “Mona Lisa”.



I have noticed two main schools of thinking about this puzzling question - “How long, O Lord, how long?” One school is eager for the world to come to an end so they can live in heaven, a paradise where death and disease and tears will be no more. The other school sees the second coming of Christ as a continuing occurrence. This latter view is a little harder to describe, but in essence, it has to do with striving to bring the Kingdom of God into being here on earth where we live and work now.



How would this work? Well, the first group basically sees human life as a temporary phenomenon. We put up with this world until we can be released and live in the “real” world of God’s house. Although we don’t want to rain on anybody’s parade, we simply can’t get too excited about issues in this world. Global warming, AIDS, over-population, economic hardships, war, poverty, drugs - those are the givens in this far from perfect world. Thus it has always been since the sin of Adam and Eve, and such it will always be. Have as little to do with it as possible. None of it really counts anyway. Given that perspective, Christ’s second coming will be the release from this far from perfect world. Be attached to nothing here since glory is only in the yet to come.



The second group sees God coming to us continuously. This world is God’s obsession. His love for his creation is limitless and he is eager for us to love it too. The poet and the artist are but extensions of the creator God. Their talents are on loan that God may bring into being that which has not been seen before. When we despise this world, we despise the handiwork of God. This includes God’s mightiest creation by the way - self-hatred spits upon the goodness of the God who gave us form and life in the first place.



When we listen to the scriptures speak of no one knowing the day or the hour when Christ will come, we may either hear this as an announcement of the possibility of a cataclysmic end of the world, a dreadful conflagration that snuffs out all of the world and its inhabitants with a few hopeful ones enjoying eternity in paradise because they’ve lived pious lives. Or, we may think of it as those serendipitous moments when Christ confronts us unexpectedly in our daily lives, bringing about a transformation of how we view ourselves or the world in which we live. This second view, paradoxically enough, is the true hopeful one, for it sees more chances for all. It sees hope for improvement. It sees doorways that invite us to new realms of possibility. It rejoices in the dawning of new ways of seeing that which we hadn’t seen, or thought of before.



The first view remembers the parable of the bridegroom barring the door of his banquet to those who arrived too late and tremble at the horror of being left out of heavenly bliss with God. The second takes seriously the caution to stay awake, stay attentive, be ready to have your eyes opened, your souls fed, even when you thought you were too late. Perhaps the doors are closed at this banquet, but who’s to say what other banquet awaits you still unannounced or undreamed of?



I remember many a feast that I missed, and was glad of it later. I remember many doors that were useless to me until I was ready to appreciate what I could find on the other side. Remember the broken heart you thought would never mend, which left you still available for a new relationship that would prove far more suitable and enduring? Remember the job you thought an ideal opportunity which can’t compare with the one you were yet to discover?



Luke speaks of Jesus meeting discouraged disciples on the Road to Emmaus. They do not recognize him. Only later are their eyes opened. How joyous they were! How their hearts burned within them. But when they do recognize him, instead of having a permanent relationship now in place, to their amazement, he disappears. They find glimpsing Jesus is a short-term affair. He will not stay confined in one particular moment or one specific place.



This realization could lead us to despair. Yet think again. It is the Jesus who goes ahead of us that beckons to us to come see what else may yet be. This Jesus, rather than seated sedately on his throne in heaven, strives in the trenches of our war fronts, labors beside our scientists in their laboratories, guides the sensitive fingers of our surgeons, grants glimpses of new color and form for our artists and fine-tunes the ears of our singers and musicians who live and move and have their being in the enveloping presence of the Holy Spirit of God.



I worship a God who has come to us, not once, but many times. And I worship a God who still comes. Our Christmas Carols celebrate one of those comings. We have yet to hear the rest of the angels’ songs. Amen.