I read that Advent is about waiting in the presence of God, and then looking for signs.
I’m not one to look for signs. Or rather, I want to be one who looks for signs, but as soon as I see something that might be a sign, the small hard voice in my head says, “Puh-lease. There are no such things as signs. Only meaningless garble you organize into signs for your own purpose.”
Sometimes, I think the hard voice is correct.
Is there room in my 21st century life for signs?
I think about the star of Bethlehem. I think about the Magi who say, “We saw his star in the east and have come.”
I think about the baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. I think about the angel who says to the shepherds, “This will be a sign to you.”
It was nothing, what happened to me last week. Just a fortuitous happening. Just that, the moment I gave up this thing I desire, an opportunity to have it appeared neatly to me, like a crisply wrapped present tied with a bow.
It was nothing, what happened to me this morning. Just an unplanned concurrence. Just that, a verse appeared to me in two minutes in two places I’d never looked before.
In Advent, we actively wait for signs.
I’ll share the verse with you, because the verse itself is a sign, a promise, of provision and love:
“My eyes will watch over them for their good…I will build them up and not tear them down: I will plant them and not uproot them.”