I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope. (Ps 130:5)
Waiting in the dark can feel endless. I cannot see any horizon. There is no way to measure distance or time. It is simply waiting in the long, lonely night.
I have waited days, weeks, and sometimes months in the dark. Over the years, other pilgrims have shared their stories of waiting in the dark. In the long night of crying out to God, the heart can feel ill at ease, fearful, alone, forgotten, forsaken.
The Psalmist graces us with words and prayers for these seasons of absence, of loss, of waiting.
Out of the depths I cry to you O Lord!
In the depths of pain and sorrow, the heart cries, “O Lord, hear my voice!”
At times, it feels as though the cry echoes through a bottomless cave. Does it ever rise from the depths to the throne of God?
Waiting in the dark can feel like abandonment. The psalmist cries, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (22:1) It seems as though God has turned his back. It seems as though God is not there.
All through the Psalms, we hear the cries, “Do not forsake me!” And, “Do not hide your face in my distress!” (102:2)
These are the prayers that open Advent. In these cries, I hear the cries of God’s people. Cries that I’ve groaned in seasons of anguish. Cries that rise even now from the mouths of people near and people far. I pass people each day who know these desperate cries in the midnight hour. They still have to work, live, raise a family, and carry secret burdens in their hearts each day.
There those far away who cry from prison cells, “O my God, be not far from me!” (Ps 38:21) Some will die in those prisons, still crying out, still trusting in the goodness of God.
In Advent, we might carry the cries of those around us before the throne God. In this sense, Advent is not simply about warm devotions, but about desperate cries to the God who is faithful, was faithful, will be faithful.
Waiting in the dark can feel like lighting a lamp as we look for the coming dawn. The crying heart learns the mystery of bitter water turned to springs of joy. We cry out with all of God’s people to the God who has entered our cries and prayed them from the place of the cross.
We cry out for all those alone in the dark and even those stumbling in the dark far from the way of the Lord. We pray with the Psalmist,
“Send out your light and your truth; let them lead [us]; let them bring [us] to your holy hill and to your dwelling!” (Ps 43:3)
I'd love to hear your thoughts.