First Tuesday of Advent: Not Forever
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
I wait for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.
—Psalm 130:5-8
My husband, Taylor, left the La Crosse Amtrak station on July 11 for a two-day train ride to Whitefish, Montana. He toted his bike, a bag of snacks, and two hefty purple duffel bags filled with tires, tools, helmet, rain gear, snow gear, heat gear, tent, and sleeping bag.
Taylor serves as a pastor, and he was eligible for a three-month renewal leave. Since he spent the last one in daily solitude, biking from California to Virginia Beach, he anticipated a similar time of reconnecting with God and creation on a north-south route. He chose to ride the Great Divide mountain bike route on the Continental Divide, the boundary from which water flows either west to the Pacific Ocean or east to the Atlantic.
For 65 days, Taylor would be with a small group of strangers, bicycling more than 2,400 miles of gravel, rock, mud, snow, and peaks. They would reach over 10,000 feet in elevation, from the U.S. border with Canada in Roosville, Montana to the U.S. border with Mexico at Antelope Wells. They would camp most nights, keep a watchful eye out for bear, and often go days without cell service or Wi-Fi.
It was a long time for him to be gone. He had already been biking for 42 days when our son, his family, and I drove, then flew, then drove some more to spend three days with him in Colorado.
It was a sweet reconnection. We smiled. We laughed. We hugged.
We listened to stories about moose and champagne gravel and bent tent poles. We met his biking companions and shared meals.
Then it was time for Taylor to continue biking from Salida to Sargents. I longed to take him home with us. Hadn’t he been away long enough?
But I knew he was not done. It was not time yet. He still had miles and miles to go.
So we went home to wait. And wait.
I made detailed plans to drive down south to pick him up. A neighbor made a “Welcome Home!” banner and I promised to send her text updates about when we would be returning so the welcome-back crew would be at the ready, in the driveway, awaiting our arrival.
It would be 21 more days before I saw Taylor again, this time with our daughter and other son in Hachita, New Mexico—the day before he would finish his epic Great Divide bicycle tour at the U.S./Mexico border.
When I think about the people of Israel waiting for their promised savior, I wonder how it felt. Did their faithful worship in the temple keep the flame of hope and anticipation alive? Did people talk about signs of the coming Messiah on a daily basis? Were their prayers always fervent, like a thirsty person begging for water—or a hungry cyclist looking for trail mix?
Were there times when they felt like giving up? Were there moments when the status quo felt good enough? Were there days when they lost hope for something more?
When Taylor was gone, it felt like his return was so far away. But the mid-trip visit in August (wisely two thirds of the way through the entire 65 days) gave me renewed hope. He wasn’t going to be gone forever.
Galatians 4:4 tells us that “when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son…”—the long-awaited Messiah. For those who saw Jesus, who walked with him, who heard him teach, and for those who were healed or hugged by Jesus—what joy! What a touchstone. What a reminder that they were not forgotten.
Jesus’ fulfillment of prophecy—his birth and life on earth, his message of love and reconciliation—gave the Israelites then, and gives us today, a glimmer of hope for what is still to come.
This Advent, let us deeply celebrate the incarnation. Jesus came to earth to be with us. He loves us! Even when life is hard and we feel alone, he hasn’t forgotten us or abandoned us.
And during this time between, we can hold on to the assurance that He will come again.
Let’s get prepared! The best is yet to come!
—Cami Haley serves the CCO as our Support Raising Ministry Coordinator.
and in his word I put my hope.
I wait for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
for with the Lord is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.
—Psalm 130:5-8
My husband, Taylor, left the La Crosse Amtrak station on July 11 for a two-day train ride to Whitefish, Montana. He toted his bike, a bag of snacks, and two hefty purple duffel bags filled with tires, tools, helmet, rain gear, snow gear, heat gear, tent, and sleeping bag.
Taylor serves as a pastor, and he was eligible for a three-month renewal leave. Since he spent the last one in daily solitude, biking from California to Virginia Beach, he anticipated a similar time of reconnecting with God and creation on a north-south route. He chose to ride the Great Divide mountain bike route on the Continental Divide, the boundary from which water flows either west to the Pacific Ocean or east to the Atlantic.
For 65 days, Taylor would be with a small group of strangers, bicycling more than 2,400 miles of gravel, rock, mud, snow, and peaks. They would reach over 10,000 feet in elevation, from the U.S. border with Canada in Roosville, Montana to the U.S. border with Mexico at Antelope Wells. They would camp most nights, keep a watchful eye out for bear, and often go days without cell service or Wi-Fi.
It was a long time for him to be gone. He had already been biking for 42 days when our son, his family, and I drove, then flew, then drove some more to spend three days with him in Colorado.
It was a sweet reconnection. We smiled. We laughed. We hugged.
We listened to stories about moose and champagne gravel and bent tent poles. We met his biking companions and shared meals.
Then it was time for Taylor to continue biking from Salida to Sargents. I longed to take him home with us. Hadn’t he been away long enough?
But I knew he was not done. It was not time yet. He still had miles and miles to go.
So we went home to wait. And wait.
I made detailed plans to drive down south to pick him up. A neighbor made a “Welcome Home!” banner and I promised to send her text updates about when we would be returning so the welcome-back crew would be at the ready, in the driveway, awaiting our arrival.
It would be 21 more days before I saw Taylor again, this time with our daughter and other son in Hachita, New Mexico—the day before he would finish his epic Great Divide bicycle tour at the U.S./Mexico border.
When I think about the people of Israel waiting for their promised savior, I wonder how it felt. Did their faithful worship in the temple keep the flame of hope and anticipation alive? Did people talk about signs of the coming Messiah on a daily basis? Were their prayers always fervent, like a thirsty person begging for water—or a hungry cyclist looking for trail mix?
Were there times when they felt like giving up? Were there moments when the status quo felt good enough? Were there days when they lost hope for something more?
When Taylor was gone, it felt like his return was so far away. But the mid-trip visit in August (wisely two thirds of the way through the entire 65 days) gave me renewed hope. He wasn’t going to be gone forever.
Galatians 4:4 tells us that “when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son…”—the long-awaited Messiah. For those who saw Jesus, who walked with him, who heard him teach, and for those who were healed or hugged by Jesus—what joy! What a touchstone. What a reminder that they were not forgotten.
Jesus’ fulfillment of prophecy—his birth and life on earth, his message of love and reconciliation—gave the Israelites then, and gives us today, a glimmer of hope for what is still to come.
This Advent, let us deeply celebrate the incarnation. Jesus came to earth to be with us. He loves us! Even when life is hard and we feel alone, he hasn’t forgotten us or abandoned us.
And during this time between, we can hold on to the assurance that He will come again.
Let’s get prepared! The best is yet to come!
—Cami Haley serves the CCO as our Support Raising Ministry Coordinator.