I love the idea of Advent – longing expectancy. You hear this hand-wringing yearning in the prelude, Come, Savior of the Heathens, where Bach is trying to plead with the nonbeliever. We hear this same kind of idea in the offertory, Paul Manz’s E’en So Lord Jesus. This piece was written by the bedside of his critically ill son in 1953. The composer and his wife collaborated in this powerful anthem, and by their expectancy, their son recovered. Along those same lines, our communion carolhas a similar yearning. My favorite line is, “Therefore don’t turn me from your door.”

Two years ago, I showed up on the doorstep of my parents’ home in Houston. They weren’t expecting me. My father answered the door, and for about five full seconds, he had no idea who I was. Before I could “introduce” myself, he nearly fell on the floor, enraptured in delight. That moment, when he realized who I was, will be something I’ll never forget. Later, I asked him about it, and he said, “I was watching the game and was put out that I had to come to the door because I thought you would turn out to be someone trying to sell me something.” He expected something different than what was.  

What do you expect? Even those of us who are supposed to be strengthened by our faith are expecting the worst for our country, our world, our health, and our finances. We’re kept up at night because in the back of our collective minds, we’re heathens. A heathen is an unbeliever. We’re expecting the worst. But Advent is about renewing your expectancy, your hopeful expectancy. You can’t do that if you expect people to be rude, or to expect that ominous envelope in your mailbox to be a bill you can’t pay. You can’t expect to lose weight or stop addictions if you think it’s “impossible.” Collectively, we’re expecting the country to fall apart, the church to fold up, the pledges to go down, the pews to be empty, and on and on. Well, what do you expect?

If you expect the Supremacy of The Universe to be in absolute control, then you can live in absolute peace. Whatever you expect, you bring forth into reality. The world is expecting catastrophe, so is anyone surprised at our dire situation today? What if during this pledge season, we all expected St. Andrew’s attendance and income to quadruple over the next 10 years? The heathen would tell you to look at the evidence, the statistics, what “they say,” what’s happened in the past, etc. The believer rejoices, despite the “evidence,” knowing that the physical world doesn’t represent Truth and possibility, but decay and death. Truth and possibility exist within. That’s your “lamp,” as it says in the offertory. We need no exterior light, for there is none. The exterior world is darkened. We need insight, where potential is birthed. We need to realize that there isn’t a stranger at the door, but that we are merely unaware of our unfounded fear. When we see Truth, we’ll be raptured in delight. That’s what I think the second coming is about.

When you recognize your own low expectations and general paranoia, Christ appears, and like my dad you light up, laughing at the Wonderful Surprise. The music today is pleading – come quickly. Wake up and recognize! Expect more, better, and that God is everywhere. Even if the so-called physical evidence suggests otherwise, great expectations open the door to great potential. What are you expecting? Let’s open the door with joy, awe, and wonder. With what rapture of utter delight would the world be caught up in, if only we knew who was standing at the door?  Soli Deo Gloria!