Matthew 11:2-6
 
In the context of Advent and the theme of longing, Matthew’s Gospel describes an interesting and encouraging scene. The first thing we note in John the Baptist’s message is a sense of waiting and longing. His words, brief and concise, echo the thoughts and questions of many Jews of his day: they have been waiting for the Messiah to come, trusting in the promises of the prophets, but not knowing when they would be fulfilled. Is Jesus the one? Or must the long wait continue?  
John is asking the old question posed in many psalms of lament: How long, O Lord? How long must we wait? John longs for the Messiah. But he doesn’t just sit passively with his longing. He expresses it and actively seeks God.
Interestingly, this is the same John who, before baptizing Jesus in the Jordan, proclaimed Him to be the Messiah: “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world . . . the Chosen One” (John 1:29,34). Now, however, John is in prison, awaiting execution for having spoken truth to power. His belief is now put to the ultimate test as his very life is threatened. His question to Jesus reveals a level of uncertainty; we might call it doubt. Was he mistaken in proclaiming that his cousin was the promised Messiah? This is a very human and understandable response to his situation. Scripture reveals not only John’s great integrity and faith, but also his humanness in his doubts and longings.
John’s dealing with his doubts and questions is a wonderful example for you and me. He doesn’t try to hide them or pretend they do not exist.  (Can we hide anything from God?) He isn’t ashamed to acknowledge them. He brings them to Jesus. John’s example gives us freedom and assurance when I doubt. Freedom to present them to God, along with my longings for Jesus to return and usher in the promised restoration of this suffering world.
Here are many different ways Jesus could have answered John’s question. Jesus could have said, “Yes. I am the promised Messiah, the Son of God. You need to have faith.” I’m not sure, though, such an answer would have alleviated John’s doubts. John might well have responded, “How do I know?”
Jesus instead points to the evidence. He doesn’t merely say, “Take My word for it.” He invites John to look at what He has done: “The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor.” Raising the dead is powerful evidence of Jesus’ divinity, and an important reassurance to John, who must have been concerned about his own life. Thomas, the disciple, had seen far more evidence and reasons to believe in Jesus than John had, and yet Jesus still showed him His hands and side, wounded from the crucifixion, and said, “Do not doubt but believe” (John 20:27).
I do not imply that Jesus’ words alone are not trustworthy. They are. But many claimed to be the Messiah in John’s time. John is wise not to naively accept any person claiming to speak for God, but to examine the evidence. We would be too. As I reflect on this passage, I am struck by something else as well. Jesus’s answer not only points to evidence of His Divine power, especially the raising of the dead, but His words also reveal God’s character and purposes. God cares about the blind, the lame, and the deaf. He cares about the poor. He cares about those despised and neglected by the world. For the blind, lame, deaf, and poor, these are words of great joy! For all of us living in mortal bodies, Jesus’s words to John should bring us a powerful hope and joy.
They are also wonderful words by which we might also examine our character and purpose as disciples of Christ. Do we care about the blind, the lame, the deaf, the poor, and those despised by the world? For Jesus says, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of Mine, you did for Me.” (Matthew 25:40)
 
Reflection
If asked, what might you point to in your life that would give evidence that you are a disciple of Jesus?

Luke 2:25.32
 
Culture today lends itself to anxious hearts and hands. We are quick to want answers, fix-alls, really, to whatever the situation of the day is. Normalcy bias manifests itself in achievement standards, expectations of others around us, the notion of failure inconceivable, the dogma of holding others to perfection, metrics, financial security, and perfectly prepared meals for Christmas dinner. All of it converts economically into billions of dollars of medicating or, sadly, exploiting others’ angst. We are not unique or worse than any other era; humans throughout history have been trying to hurry things.
We cannot rush the grand narrative of God. We cannot thwart the narrative or any of its characters either. Even when discord and disillusionment abound, there can and will be consolation. Simeon was right where he was supposed to be, and he teaches us today two lessons that anxious hearts tend to forget: Advent is about learning to wait well in the silence between promise and realization. And that Advent gives way to more Advent.
Simeon was doing what he was called to do, waiting for the consolation of Israel. And the Holy Spirit’s Advent for Simeon was to bring a pledge promise. The arrival of God was not to fulfill everything but to say exactly what anxious hearts would rather avoid: wait for another Advent.
While in God’s presence, Eve and Adam are told that heels will be bruised and heads crushed, but they wait. Abraham sees God, but he will wait for God to bless his seed. Israel is guided by God’s presence, but it will wait for a new Jerusalem. Mary will be with God in the most unique of ways, but she, too, will wait. If the Gospel teaches us anything well, it is that waiting is a fundamental lesson.
Simeon teaches us today two lessons that anxious hearts tend to forget: Advent is about learning to wait well in the silence between promise and realization. And that Advent gives way to more Advent. But Simeone also demonstrates the posture while waiting: he went into the temple courts.
Simeon went to where God was, as he understood it during his time. We know today, because of Jesus’ incarnation, that God will extend beyond buildings made with hands and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him (Acts 7:48; Hebrews 11:6). The posture is not to be in the right place as much as it is to be looking for Him. We wait, looking faithfully at what is before us, as though God could arrive with the answer to our questions.
The reward for Simeon’s waiting was to see what God promised and also to await another Advent. The fulfillment of God’s promises always seems to exceed what we could ever imagine asking for (Ephesians 3:6, 20). Simeon’s waiting leads to promised sight for all of us: You have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles. He is not just coming to resolve the discord in Israel but, as the songwriter says, “He comes to make the nations prove the glories of his righteousness.”
All of these promises are reflected in the arrival of the Child Jesus in Simeon’s arms. Jesus has arrived, but this Advent would lead to another Advent. Simeon is unique to us in the sense that we will never know what it’s like to hold the Creator in our arms. But we are the same in that we all wait for the nations and Israel to be one corporate body and behold his glory. Until Jesus arrives with that kind of presence, we wait.
Reflection
As you prepare to celebrate Christmas, think about your waiting posture. Where have you looked for God? What might waiting to see how God is present in those areas look like?

In the story of Bethlehem, there were angels, shepherds, and wise men who came with gifts to worship. In a stable, in a manger, the Savior was born. The story of Bethlehem continues to be told; this true story has been passed down through the ages. Every time someone invites Jesus into their heart, the story of Bethlehem unfolds once again.
Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine, under the starry sky on the road to Bethlehem, a weary carpenter and a mother carrying the Son of God. Though this journey was full of uncertainties, she took every step by faith. She said, “I am not coming to Bethlehem alone. I bring my family with me and lay them before You. I follow Your leading, for this journey begins at home.”
Our lives, too, are full of uncertainties, and we must take each step by faith. We also ought to bring our families and entrust them to the Lord Jesus, following His guidance.
We may walk through the valley of the shadow of death, but we must not forget that when the night ends, joy is promised to come. Let every heart remember: no matter how dark it seems, hope is right ahead—this is the season of light.
Today, many families are experiencing broken relationships—between husbands and wives, between parents and children, between in-laws. Some family members have stopped speaking to one another; when they do speak, it ends in quarrels. Many people long to change the situation and have tried their best, yet still find themselves failing.
Invite Jesus into your heart! He can fill the loneliness within you. He can bring real change—a change that begins in the heart. Truly, if the heart is not changed, all efforts will be in vain. Invite Jesus into your heart, and He will bring transformation—changing your life and changing your family relationships.
The wise men from the East followed the light, the shepherds experienced the light, and we are called to walk in the light. The Lord Jesus is the true Light. He invites us to follow Him, to experience Him, and to walk with Him. When we do so, you will see changes in your family relationships.
May you experience a true Christmas. Open your heart and step into the promises of Jesus. Jesus willingly left His throne so that you might bring Christmas home. Imagine this: when the Savior came into the world, only a few shepherds were there to welcome His birth. Yet even so, He considered it worthwhile, simply because He desires you to bring Christmas home.
Invite the Lord Jesus into your heart. Let Him change your life and change your family. If you invite Jesus into your heart, the story of Bethlehem will begin anew in you. You are not coming to Bethlehem alone—you bring your family with you and lay them before the Lord. Follow the Lord’s guidance, for this journey begins at home.
May you bring Christmas home today.