Active waiting
For some, that might mean looking forward to Christmas shopping, family gatherings, or even the relief of New Year, and the challenge of making resolutions! But Advent points us beyond those short-term hopes. It directs us to look to the promised return of Christ. And on this first Sunday of Advent, the theme is hope.
We live in uncertain days. We wait to see the effect of the budget this week - People hope to keep their jobs, hope for prices to fall, hope for loved ones to be safe. In Wales and across the country, many are feeling the pinch of rising costs, the strain on public services, and the anxiety of global instability.
Farmers hope for fair prices for their produce; young people hope for opportunities that will allow them to stay in their communities rather than move away. Yet amidst all these fragile hopes, Advent reminds us of a hope that is certain: Christ will return. We do not know when, but we know he will.
In Matthew’s Gospel (24:36-44), Jesus tells us that no one knows the day or the hour of his coming. That uncertainty is not meant to frighten us, but to keep us alert and to live each day as though it might be the day of his return.
Most of us dislike waiting. Whether it’s queues at Christmas or waiting for news, it can feel endless. But waiting for Christ is different. It is active waiting. As Paul writes to the Romans (13:11-14), “You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep… the night is far gone, the day is near.”
Advent is a wake-up call. It is a summons to live as children of the light, to “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” and be ready.
There’s a story of a child who asked her Sunday school teacher, “What’s a Lert?” When told the vicar had said we must “be alert,” she wanted to know what a Lert was so she could be one! Advent is precisely that: a call to be alert, awake, and ready.
Perhaps this Advent is the right moment for us to wake from sleep, to step into the light of Christ whether, for some, it is for the first time, or whether to renew our walk with him. At the start of this new year, we have that invitation…
Isaiah (2:1-5) gives us a picture of what we are waiting for: a world where nations stream to the mountain of the Lord, where swords are beaten into ploughshares, and war is no more. That vision of peace is not just a distant dream—it is God’s promise. And Advent invites us to live now as citizens of that coming kingdom, embodying peace, justice, and compassion in our daily lives.
The kingdom Isaiah saw is not just a dream—it begins in us, when we choose to follow Jesus and let his peace shape our lives. In a world scarred by conflict, from Ukraine to the Middle East, Isaiah’s words feel urgent. They remind us that the Christian hope is not escapist, it is transformative. It calls us to be peacemakers in our homes, our communities, and our nations.
Here in Wales, we know something about waiting and hoping. Generations have waited for renewal in communities shaped by agriculture, coal and steel, by industry and by decline. Yet there are also so many places of resilience, song, and faith. The great Welsh revival of 1904 began with a handful of believers praying and waiting and it spread like wildfire, filling chapels with praise. Advent hope is like that: small beginnings that grow into something world-changing.
Even our landscape speaks of Advent. The mountains and hills remind us of Isaiah’s vision of nations streaming to the mountain of the Lord. The dawn breaking over the Brecon Beacons or Snowdonia is a living parable of Paul’s words: “the night is far gone, the day is near.” And the Welsh hymn tradition gives voice to our longing. Think of “Guide me, O thou great Redeemer”, a pilgrim hymn that captures the essence of Advent waiting—trusting God to lead us through wilderness into promise.
Waiting for Christ is not passive. It is not about sitting back until God acts. It is about living faithfully in the meantime—loving, forgiving, seeking justice, shining as lights in the darkness. As one rabbi once said, dawn begins not when we can distinguish between animals or trees, but when we can look into the face of another human being and recognise them as our brother or sister. That is the light Christ calls us to bear.
In Wales today, that might mean recognising the stranger as neighbour—the refugee seeking safety, the homeless person in need of shelter, the lonely elderly person longing for company. Advent waiting is expressed in practical compassion: food banks, warm spaces, community choirs, and churches opening their doors not only for worship but for welcome.
So, Advent is not about Jesus bursting in to our lives to grant every wish. It is about Emmanuel—God with us—already present, already at work, even in hidden ways. And it is about the promise that one day he will come again to make all things new.
The Welsh poet R. S. Thomas, who I often find far too miserable, occasionally wrote impressive things and he once wrote of God as “the silence waiting at the end of words.” Advent reminds us that God is present even in silence, even in waiting. Emmanuel is not only the child in the manger but the risen Lord who walks with us now.
As we begin this new Christian year, we are challenged to live out the gospel in our own lives: to reach higher, shine more brightly, and be beacons of God’s love. The Church may face change and challenge—declining numbers, financial pressures, cultural shifts—but God is not in decline. His kingdom is coming, and we are called to be part of it.
The hope of Advent is not only for the world—it is for us. Christ longs to meet us, to walk with us, and to transform our life with his love. We’re reminded of the words we said earlier in the service – Christ is the source of life – He brings light to the world and the light shines in the darkness and the darkness can never put it out. These words aren’t just nice poetic rhythm but life changing promises.
Every moment of our lives is different because Jesus lived, died, and rose again. This Advent and beyond, let us journey with him every step of the way—thankful for his love, confident in his presence, and bold to proclaim him as our Saviour.
May we dream of a world filled with Christians praising God. May we pray for it, work for it, and trust in God’s power to bring it to pass. And may we, like the saints of Wales before us, be faithful witnesses to the light of Christ in our time. Amen.
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