The snow fell like a whisper the other day.
I had my back turned on the frosty windows, because, you know: Stuff. I had some really important stuff going on.
We miss miracles because of our “really important stuff.”
Snow makes no noise when it drops from the sky, nor when it touches the ground, and I suppose you have to be paying attention to see the miracles that whisper down; you have to listen until those whispers get loud in your own front yard.
But I wasn’t paying attention to whispers. Because, … stuff.
Let me tell you this: There are divine invasions from heaven, landing like morning manna, for a waiting world with its back turned. It happened about 2,000 years ago, and it still happens today. In front yards.
And wherever you are this moment.
I have excuses. You do, too. We”ve got things going on, right? Conferences calls. With important people. Also? While we are waiting for the phone to ring, we straighten pillows, throw out old onions from the crisper drawer, and make important decisions about which wrapping paper to use on our daughters’ Christmas gifts, all the while making mental notes and checklists.
I don’t look out the windows like I used to, back when I was praying down those manna miracles. When I was desperate for Jesus.
I’ve gotten lazy.
Heaven comes down, and we’re busy with our box-checking, obligation-meeting, corner-sweeping lives.
But the miracle.still.happens. Immanuel comes anyway. In a whisper. Even when our backs are against the windows.
My God, there You are, when we are completely oblivious. You fall like winter snow when no one sees. Like the way You did when You divinely invaded Bethlehem and all the world.
So what is Advent? What is it, really?
The word “advent” comes from adventus in Latin, which means “coming.” It’s a sort of sacred forecast — like holy snow — a reminder to look out your window for what’s about to whisper-fall.
Listen for the whisper. It might feel like a shout in your bones.
Who wants to miss the miracle?
Here is comes now, see it?
This is Advent.
Good gracious, we’re in the midst of it. Manna on the yard, and in our very own souls.
Let the wrapping paper wait. Don’t worry about buying the bows this year, or stringing more lights. You’re good. It’s all good.
Fall om your knees. Take off your shoes. The weary world rejoices.
Let the Cheerios pester the corner of your kitchen a while longer. Sit a spell. Behold the miracle that changed everything for you. Watch its flame, how it is blazing down through the cosmos toward your very own soul.
Dear God, help us. This is hard, hard, work in America. We are the biggest miracle-missers on the planet. Lure us to the window, to see.
Behold, the light of the world is coming. We don’t want to miss it. And I’m sure of it: You don’ t want us to, Lord. You’re out on our yards. Because of us. For us.