“We don’t have a nativity!” I exclaimed late at night last year, as my husband, Curt, and I had just laid down for bed. Curt lifted the corner of his eye mask, and grumbling, told me that we could get one later, that it would be okay if we did not have one right away. I nodded in agreement, but in my head, all I could think about was, “How can Jesus come without a nativity?” Curt, knowing how I like to work through a problem in my head tirelessly until there is a solution, pulled me in closer and said, “It can wait.”
Waiting. This word ultimately defines what the Advent season is all about. The church waits with anxious anticipation, with excitement, with hope, and with joy, for the birth of our Savior. We await the coming of the Prince of Peace, for the God-child. But Advent is more than just waiting for the baby in the manger. Advent is about waiting for the coming of Christ again. Rejoice! Christ is coming back.
Sometime in February last year, well after Christmas had passed, I found our nativity. I had to wait. It reminded me that our whole life is an Advent, as we wait for Christ’s final return. It now sits on our bookshelf, next to the small globe we have. Christ is coming into the world. For the world.