Editor’s Note: Kelli Bryant Gibson (DPhil) associate professor of Historical Theology at Abilene Christian University’s Graduate School of Theology (GST), and her colleague, Dr. Mark Hamilton, edited Singing with the Shepherds, a collection of Advent meditations by GST faculty, students, and alumni,
Singing with the Shepherds can be downloaded for free in both English and Spanish. Dr. Omar Palafox translated the collection into Spanish.

By Kelli Bryant Gibson
The season of Advent is nearly upon us. During this season we simultaneously look backward and forward: backward to the first coming of Jesus Christ as a helpless and vulnerable newborn and forward to his glorious second coming as ruler of the cosmos. Holding these two visions in our mind at once can feel a bit like whiplash. But this season of the church calendar is genius: the mystery and beauty of the Incarnation is best approached through paradox. Sacred time accomplishes this by collapsing separate chronological events into a single picture: the birth of Jesus, the preaching of John the Baptist announcing Jesus’s earthly ministry, and the second coming of the Lord “to judge the living and the dead.”

The lectionary readings for Advent invite us to juxtapose these advents of the Lord Jesus. Early in the cycle, the readings immerse us in Israel’s ardent longing for the Messiah, the Lord’s Anointed One who will reestablish the kingdom. If we let these ancient words sink in deep, the historical distance lessens, and we join our voices to theirs, singing in the minor key, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” We are not the oppressed children of Israel in the first century, but we too yearn for the world to be put right and for the kingdom of heaven to come in its fullness. Reliving the desire for Christ’s first advent naturally evokes in us an ardent yearning for the fullness of his Kingdom “on earth as in heaven.”

Their cries—and ours—do not go unheard. John the Baptist calls out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” What reactions does this announcement bring forth? Surely, it arouses the virtues that we associate with this season: hope, joy, peace, love. Perhaps like Mary, whose Magnificat anticipates John the Baptist’s proclamation by decades, we are moved to glorify the Lord who has remembered his promises and whose justice will turn the world upside down. “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the starving with good things and sent the rich away empty” (Luke 1:52-53). 

“Prepare the way of the Lord!” The words thrill, but they may also cause foreboding. Who is ready to meet the Lord? It is little wonder that John’s words were paired with a call to action: in addition to a public baptism, one should bear “the fruits of repentance” by sharing one’s excess with the poor and renouncing abuse of power (Luke 3:1-17). This call is perhaps even more challenging in twenty-first-century America than it was in first-century Palestine. If Mary’s Magnificat is true, what does that mean for a decadent and affluent people like ours? The season of Advent combines the hope and joy of Christ’s first and second comings with the call for repentance. The same traditional Advent carol that declares “joy to the world” urges us, “Let every heart prepare him room.” 

So, we long for the coming of the Lord, our hearts brimming with both hope and humble repentance. These contrasting emotions are integral to the watchful waiting the New Testament constantly enjoins on us. They’re meant for all seasons, not only Advent, but, if we’re honest, the balance is hard to maintain, and it’s tempting to resolve the tension by leaning too heavily one way or the other. We may emphasize Christ’s fearful return in judgment to such a degree that we stamp out the thrill of hope and joy that his coming ought to bring to believers, however imperfect they may be. Or we may do just the opposite: eschewing the fire and brimstone, we may recast God’s love as unconditional approval of us just as we are, no need to repent.

It’s true that the Lord’s “steadfast love endures forever” and God was faithful to his covenant people Israel even when they were faithless. But God wanted their restoration too, and since they could not achieve it themselves, God supplied their lack, just as God supplies ours. God is a masterful physician, who can replace our “heart of stone” with a “heart of flesh” (Ezekiel 36:26), but this requires our cooperation. We must recognize that we’re sick in order to seek healing. The season of Advent invites us, and even trains us, to maintain the balance for the whole year round. 

Kelli Bryant Gibson (DPhil) associate professor of Historical Theology at Abilene Christian University’s Graduate School of Theology