“Oh, he’s making a list, checkin’ it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty or nice, Santa Claus is coming to town!” So goes the favorite Christmas song sung by children and adults alike. If I would have stopped after the first two phrases – “oh, he’s makin’ a list, checkin’ it twice” – that song could apply to any one of us. Because at this point in the holiday season, we all have our holiday “to do” lists: there are cookies to bake, gifts to buy, parties to attend, and trees to decorate. Especially after last year, in which the pandemic forced us to simplify our holiday schedules, this year seems even more frantic as we try to make up for lost time.

Against the cultural backdrop of all the holiday festivities, the church promotes something different: a season of waiting. Advent, the season just prior to Christmas, is a dedicated time encouraging us to pause, to rest, to reflect, and to anticipate what’s coming. Most of all, Advent encourages us to wait.

“But there’s so much to get done!” one might think. “There’s no time to wait!” which, is precisely the tension. In the words of Laura Truman, “into a culture that prioritizes productivity over presence, Advent invites us to believe that we have value even when we are still. Into a culture that tells us if we don’t do it, it won’t get done, Advent asks us to stop working for a season. God is going to do a new thing, and all we have to do is wait.”

All we have to do is wait. Back in the spring, on Easter Sunday morning, I watched the sun rise with some friends. It was glorious. The night before, knowing that I would be watching the sun rise, I felt compelled to watch the sun set. So, I set out on a walk, and watched the sun dip below the horizon. Once the colors faded, I returned to my house. Once inside, something else was stirring in me. It was as if something was trying to convince me that even though the light had faded, something was still taking shape in the darkness. To the outside world, it wouldn’t be evident until the morning. Even in the waiting, something was transpiring.

Well, as one can imagine, the next morning, the sun did rise. But as I beheld the light of the sun, my heart was overflowing. It was as if the sun was telling me, “See? I told you something was happening! Even when it was dark, and even when the earth seemed still, it wasn’t the end. Something was happening, even in the waiting.”

So often, it’s easy to believe that things only “get done” if we do them ourselves. No one has taught us that the work goes on, even when we are still. No one has ever taught us that God can break into the world even when we have stopped working. Just as something was transpiring in the dark of the night before the sun arose the next morning, something is also transpiring within us, and around us, as we wait.

So, in these last days before Christmas, find just a moment or two to be still. Trust me, the world will still keep spinning, even if you stop. And in that moment, listen. Listen to your heart, and pay attention to what God is doing. Because even when it seems as though nothing is happening, something is transpiring. And whatever that is, will – at some point – burst into a new dawn.