Waiting

The last couple of months before I left Malawi, I was confronted with so many people enduring challenging life events. As I walked into church, the hospitality greeter asked me when I would start the trauma healing group that I had a few years ago again. She said that she was sexually harassed at work and when she reported it, her company fired her. She is heartbroken and hurting… and jobless. She misses attending the trauma healing group because it was a space where she could share what she was feeling.

A little over a month ago, a friend in her mid thirties with two young children, suddenly lost her husband. One day he wasn’t feeling well and they took him to the hospital. There was some internal bleeding that the hospital couldn’t stop. A little over a week later, he was gone. If he had access to medical treatment in the US, he would probably still be alive today. But lack of medical supplies and services limited what the hospital could do. She knows she can’t fall apart because she has two young children.

In my church small group, there’s a new girl that started to attend. She struggles with alcohol. She turned to alcohol because she was sexually abused and she couldn’t find anyone to help her through it. Her family is not supportive of her. She recently entered a treatment center, but she does not feel like she has anyone who can be there for her. She feels alone.

I just found out today that a child that I watched grow up is struggling with depression. He has been more withdrawn recently and not his usual quirky self. He is only 15 years old. His dad called to figure out what to do with the information the psychologist provided. It’s hard to believe that this adorable, smart little boy I saw growing up is struggling with such complex emotions. 

And when we read the newspaper about the sufferings of the world- babies killed in bombings, people suffering from hunger, people fleeing their homes trying to find safety- it feels like the opposite of joyous.

“A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” (Matthew 2:18)

“See, darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples,” (Isaiah 60:2a) 

It’s the Advent season. And it is supposed to be the most joyous season of the year, but in reality many of us are exhausted, burned out and struggling. We struggle to carry the load, many times alone.

Casey Overton reminds us: “Advent is an irrational commitment to a better future. Advent is a protest demand. Advent is still believing that we are loved even when we have forgotten what love feels like. The scripture cannot promise us smooth pathways nor can they entitle us to happiness. Instead, we are given recipes for the audacity to await our collective salvation even from the brink of death.” 

Isaiah continues with: “but the LORD rises upon you and his glory appears over you.” (Isaiah 60:2b)

This season reminds us that Jesus came in a season of trials. And in the midst of darkness, he is the light that shines. He is the baby refugee who fled to Egypt; he is the homeless traveler who is dependent on the good will of others for food; he is the stranger who is seen as an outsider in the community… and all of this during the first few years of his life. 

This is our God. The one who sees. The one we cry out to because we need him. And he gives us the strength to hold on another day. And because he promises that our current suffering is incomparable to the future glory (Romans 8:18), we hold on to that hope that one day our tears will be no more. And because our God is bigger than our current reality, we hope with joy. And through worship of this God, who alone is worthy of worship, we receive some of that healing until our collective salvation. 

Photos provided by the author.