Advent Devotional - Part 6

The Strange Longing of Advent

I have a love for chasing sunsets.  Whether in the heat of summer or in the chilled evenings of winter in rural New York, I've been known to frantically rush to the car to try to catch a better view of the evening sky before its beauty fades.  My daughter, Mia, seems to have inherited this part of my personality. Like her dad, I've seen her scamper out the front door with the same sense of urgency, in pursuit of a beautiful sunset with a camera in hand.

On evenings when we've chased the fading light together, some interesting conversations have emerged.  We've spoken of the strange way that a sunset, a scene from a movie, or a certain blend of musical notes can evoke almost indescribable longings within us.  We've spoken of how, in moments like these, the deeply spiritual nature of humanity seems all but undeniable.  The way that beauty in its various forms can stir a strange longing within us is worth some serious contemplation. 

For me, this longing that I've coined "sunset syndrome" has an elusive, mysterious quality to it.  My desire to chase a sunset sometimes surprises me, like a strange hunger or desire that suddenly surfaces like a forgotten memory. Even as a child, I remember a handful of times when this deep yearning arose within me, and I sensed that I was missing out on something grand happening somewhere, just beyond the horizon of my experience.  Words for this yearning seem incomplete.

Vague longing...

Homesickness...

Nostalgia...

None of them quite measure up.  

Thankfully, I've come to find that I'm not alone in this experience.  The German word sensucht points to others' attempts to name this strange "combination of longing, pining, or yearning...which can't be summed up in one word in English."  Even the great Christian mind of C.S. Lewis struggled to interpret an experience he had as a young man, when a strange sense of longing swept over him in a moment that impacted him deeply.

"As I stood beside a flowering currant bush on a summer day there suddenly arose in me without warning, and as if from a depth not of years but of centuries, the memory of that earlier morning at the Old House when my brother had brought his toy garden into the nursery. It is difficult to find words strong enough for the sensation which came over me; Milton's 'enormous bliss' of Eden (giving the full, ancient meaning to "enormous") comes somewhere near it. It was a sensation, of course, of desire; but desire for what?...and before I knew what I desired, the desire itself was gone, the whole glimpse withdrawn, the world turned commonplace again, or only stirred by a longing for the longing that had just ceased. It had taken only a moment of time; and in a certain sense everything else that had ever happened to me was insignificant in comparison."

Though difficult to define, spiritual longing surfaces throughout Scripture.  The biblical narrative begins with the loss of what is good and beautiful in our humanity, and the yearning for Eden-lost is set in motion.  As the story continues, we taste David's spiritual thirst as a deer pants for water.  We share in the ache and longing of an exiled people yearning for home.  And even when the way home is opened for them, the building of the second temple only brings the painful longing for the glory of the first.  It could be said, perhaps, that the entirety of the biblical story leading to Jesus is a story of spiritual longing searching for fulfillment.

Deep longing has a place for us in Advent. As if fasting, we can allow ourselves to hunger, yearn, and ache with the story of God's people, waiting in darkness for the dawn. Alongside them, we can take time to recognize something we deeply need that, if left to our own resources, we repeatedly fail to possess.  In Advent, we allow this longing to build until our ache is met by the wonder of the Incarnation.   In Advent, we allow our hearts to embrace a yearning that causes us to sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" and "Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus."  We cry out in our hunger until the Bread of Life comes into the world through the cries of an infant.  If we allow ourselves to soak in the time for longing that Advent offers us, the wonder of God's grace in Jesus may finally saturate our hearts. 

And yet, even when our deepest spiritual thirst is satisfied in Christ, our longing does continue. But this is a longing transformed. As people who have seen the story unfold in the manger, the cross, the resurrection, and the gift of the Spirit, our current longing is an empowering one. The longing now filling us is for more of what we have already received. In knowing Christ, we long for a greater union with Christ, who has already filled our hearts with a deposit of hope, peace, joy, and love.  In knowing the story of our salvation, we long for its final and complete resolution. In welcoming the Newborn King, we long to see his reign expand, as it continues to transform and restore lives around us. As new creations, we long to see an entire creation made new. In the longing that remains, we yearn for a deeper intimacy with the One who is the joy of every longing heart.  

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Matt RoweComment