Advent Poem

we wait
in the ever darkening nights
for that which comes always new
like the winter cold sun at daybreak
we wait
for the end is not yet
it will be far better
it will be far beyond
we wait
and we live
and we love
and we laugh
we wait
in the quiet
we wait
in the anticipation
we wait
this advent

by Derek Koehl

the waiting is the hardest part (thank you, Tom Petty)

Danielle: How long did it take to make that bread?
Me: It’s about a 3 hour process.
Danielle: Woah.
Me: Yeah. The waiting is the hardest part.

Waiting for bread to rise can literally take hours. You put in all this work up front, softening the yeast, warming the milk and butter, mixing the egg, spices and honey, stirring it together, adding flour and kneading the dough. Then you put it in a bowl near a warm, cozy space* and you wait. Some recipes give concrete timelines like, "Place in bowl and let rise for 1-1/2 hours." Other recipes leave room for interpretation and intuition like, "Place in bowl and let rise until the dough has doubled in size." No matter what the instructions say, there is going to be some waiting involved. And, if waiting for the dough to rise is not bad enough, you also have to consider the waiting involved while the bread is baking.

Waiting for bread to rise and then bake is hard because there is no going back. You are committed. You have set these things in motion and you can’t turn around to add forgotten ingredients or revive slow-growing—or possibly dead—yeast. Your only option is to see it through to the end or give up on it completely.** Giving up is rarely worth it unless you are absolutely sure the end is doomed. Sticking with it, on the other hand, is bound to yield an edible product, but has the possibility to be even greater: delicious—loved, admired and consumed by all.

I like to think that the aroma of the dough rising and baking is the fragrance of hope for what the dough could become. It sneaks its way into every corner of the house softly proclaiming, "Hey! There’s something delicious in the making! Just smell it! It is practically the definition of goodness." The smell is comforting and inviting. It invokes anticipation for something even better than itself.

God gives us signs of hope to keep us working and yearning for his kingdom to come in its entirety. The first time around, with little baby Jesus, we had some pretty concrete examples: Zechariah, Elizabeth and John, Joseph and Mary, wise men and shepherds. This time around, we have to look a little harder. But hope is here, living among us. And when I run into tragedy and grief and have trouble finding our friend hope, I bake bread and remember that there is a promise that is to be fulfilled. All the blind will receive their site, all the lame will walk, all who are sick will be healed, all who are deaf will hear, all the dead shall be raised and the good news will be all that we know.

"You take in on faith, take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part"
--Tom Petty


*Although most people choose to put the dough in a warm oven (about 150F) or on top of the stove while the oven is preheating, my mom fully embraced the warming powers of an electric blanket. No joke.

**Advanced bakers and food scientists have figured out a way to put the whole process on pause (this usually requires freezing, but you still can’t really reverse the process.


Recipe for Honey Bread

Ingredients:
1 pkg of yeast (or 2-1/4 tsp)
¼ warm water
1 cup milk
¼ cup butter
1 egg
½ cup honey
1 tbsp coriander
½ tsp cinnamon
¼ tsp cloves
1 tsp salt
4 ½ cups flour

extra butter for bottom of baking pans


Directions:
1. Soften the yeast in ¼ cup warm water. Set aside for 5 minutes.
2. Heat milk and butter to lukewarm on stove.
3. Mix together all remaining ingredients EXCEPT flour.
4. Add milk and butter to the honey mixture. Mix well.
5. Add yeast. Mix well.
6. Add the flour 1 cup at a time, using a spoon (or a Kitchenaid if you’re lucky!) to mix evenly.
7. The dough will be too sticky to knead on a cutting board or counter. Just use a spoon (or that KitchenAid with a dough hook) and push the dough back and forth for about 10 minutes.
8. Set aside in a warm, cozy place. Either in a warm oven at 150F or on top of the stove while it is preheating to 300F.
9. Once the dough has doubled in size (about 1 ½ hours), punch it (literally) and mix it again to get out the air bubbles.
10. Divide the dough in ½. Form into 2 round loaves. Place in two 8” cake pans with melted butter in the bottom (trust me…this is the delicious part).
11. Bake at 300F for 1 hour.

Taking Expectation Seriously

Hope is an interesting thing. To believe that something better is coming really flies in the face of our cultural pessimism. It’s easy to look at the world all around us and lament the terrible future that awaits us all. We hear wars and rumors of war, we hear of disease that threatens the planet and we hear of poverty that seems incurable (just to name a few of the injustices that can be observed).

Yet, at advent, we hope. We talk of expectation of a coming kingdom where wars will cease, where sickness no longer threatens and where equity rules all of humankind. It seems foolish, but we are a people of hope. We are called to long for that Kingdom coming.

There is perhaps nothing more counter-cultural than to be a people that proclaim a Kingdom where the lion lays down with the lamb, where justice is done for all.

Why are we a people of such expectation? Simply put: because of Jesus. In the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, we are introduced to a new reality, a new economy. Life is valued above all else, and justice is introduced as something that can and will be achieved.

At Journey last week, we talked about John the Baptist. This prophet was so convinced that the way of Jesus and the Kingdom were indeed coming that it radically changed the way he engaged with the world. As I said Sunday, we are called to be the John the Baptists of our day… people who radically live into a Kingdom vision even when it pushes us to the fringes of society.

Lest we forget, God is often (if not always) found on the fringes in the people that choose to take this message seriously.

As we celebrate this season of Advent, may we be a people of hope. May we say to the powers of this world that better days are coming. Our present reality is not all that exists, and God’s Kingdom of Justice, Love and Peace is coming.

Waiting: Not Always a Bad Thing

This week, my ten-year-old twin nieces are having some problems with this waiting business. Much to my sister's horror, they found their Christmas presents. Whether they snooped around and found the loot or whether their teenage brother set them up for trouble is still a matter of debate, but this is sad on several levels. My sister absolutely loves buying her children gifts. She loves the surprise on Christmas morning, as well as the anticipation the twins exhibit in the months prior to that morning. She was literally in tears because her well planned surprise has been ruined. I can tell the twins are sad about the lost suprise as well. Whether or not kids will admit, waitng and suprises are a big part of what makes this season so much fun for them. Waiting almost always makes the receivng more special.

I love what Lauren Winner says about advent in her memoir Girl Meets God. When she first converted to Christianity, her pastor explained to her that she never goes to Christmas parties before Christmas day because the waiting of advent is supposed to be a little anxious. Lauren says, "I picture Jane Austen heroines. They never are quite sure their intended will come. We as Christians can be sure, we can rest easy in the promises of Scripture. But we are meant to feel a touch of that anxious handkerchief-wringing expectation all the same."

Waiting is not often an enjoyable thing, but it makes you slow down and it builds a greater appreciation of what we are receiving. This is why I love Advent at Journey. At our Sunday gatherings, we are intentionally slowing down and waiting with eager expectations for the day that celebrates one of the greatest things ever- the incarnation. We spend time in silence on Sunday evenings to meditate on the child who was born in Bethlehem, the God who put on flesh and moved into our neighborhood and whose Spirit remains among us, and the time that is coming when this Christ child that we are celebrating will make all things new. We are rejoicing in the fact that hope has entered our world and hope remains here, and we are wringing our handkerchiefs for the day when our hope is fully realized. The beauty of such a thing must be worth all the waiting that time can muster.

- Janalee Shadburn