108: Keep Awake
Okay. If you haven’t seen the viral video I’m about to describe, you MUST. I’ll link to it the show notes and I won’t be surprised in the least if you end up watching it over and over and over again. Because that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Can’t get enough. You’re welcome in advance. CLICK HERE to watch.
Anyway, this video is of six-year-old Milo, who lives in the U.K. He’s just been assigned his role in the school nativity play, and he is so excited to share the news with his mom, who is filming the video. Also, quick side note, it’s in moments like this when I wish I had the proper copyright and tech skills to include the actual audio here {again, you must watch it for yourself because I cannot do it justice} But nonetheless, I will do my best.
Milo is picked up from school and informs his mom that he has been cast in a “classic” nativity role, and she begins to guess what role that might be. “Joseph?” No. “One of the wise men?” No. “An innkeeper?” No. All out of guesses, Milo’s mom gives up and asks him to go ahead and tell her. Milo exclaims, “I’m Doorholder #3! I’ll be holding doors!” To which his mom sweetly responds, “That’s amazing!” It is truly just the sweetest thing.
I find it so interesting that Milo described the role of Door holder as a “classic” nativity role. Because, really, it’s not at all. There are zero door holders mentioned in the Christmas story. I suppose that’s what makes the video so endearing. But I still think Milo might be on to something. Because while it might not be a classic nativity or Christmas role, I do wonder if maybe a door holder could be considered a classic Advent role. Here’s why.
Advent is the liturgical, church-calendar season of intentional, expectant waiting, anticipation, and preparation. At its most basic definition, Advent means, “coming” or “arrival.” And even though for most of my life, I considered Advent to be mostly about remembering or commemorating the waiting of God’s people before Jesus’ birth, I’m learning that, historically, Advent was really meant to mark the waiting of God’s people for Christ’s second coming. The waiting that we are a part of. The waiting that is still very much our reality today.
During Advent, we remember the waiting that was and we acknowledge the waiting that is. So, it might be fitting, then, to turn to passages like this one from Mark 13, when Jesus shares with his disciples about the second coming we are currently waiting for. In verses 32-37, we read:
32 “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven nor the Son, but only the Father. 33 Beware, keep alert,[g] for you do not know when the time will come. 34 It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35 Therefore, keep awake, for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening or at midnight or at cockcrow or at dawn, 36 or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37 And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
Did you catch it? The “classic” role of this Advent passage? The doorkeeper. Now, traditionally, a doorkeeper in those days was mostly tasked with keeping harm out, being on guard against whatever might be looming beyond. But in this passage, “door holder" might actually be a better term, because Jesus seems to focus on the task of welcoming back, welcoming in. This doorkeeper was given the job of being on watch and keeping awake in anticipation of Christ’s return. And rather than operating from a place of fear, this doorkeeper was meant to operate with a posture of hope. Like little children on tiptoe at the front window, waiting for a loved one to arrive, as God’s people, we remember this assignment, and we practice waiting with a similar hopeful expectancy.
This, of course, sounds lovely, but we know it is much easier said than done. Because while we wait by the door, the darkness is thick and hope can wear thin. We tend to quickly shift from standing at the door watching on tip-toe to turning our backs and impatiently tapping our toes. So what are we to do? What might it look like to faithfully participate in this Advent waiting?
I wonder if it begins with remembering God-with-us and God-within-us. Here’s what I mean.
Before he ascended, Jesus promised us the presence of the Holy Spirit, which means the miracle and gift of the Incarnation is still part of our reality today. And as we continue to wait for the ultimate arrival we long for, we are able to catch glimpses of God-with-us all around. Maybe the key is learning how to open the door a crack and welcome those glimpses in, discerning how to pay attention, discerning how to notice them. Because maybe it’s those glimpses that help sustain us while we wait. As Henri Nouwen suggests,
The Lord is coming, always coming. When you have ears to hear and eyes to see, you will recognize him at any moment of your life. Life is Advent; life is recognizing the coming of the Lord.
We remember and notice God-with-us, but we also remember and follow God-within-us. Romans 8 holds this reminder: the same Spirit that was in Christ is in us, guiding and empowering each of us as we seek to embody the presence of God in this Advent world. God is at work in and through us. So we open the door, welcoming in the broken, the grief-stricken, the lonely, the marginalized. And through the power of the Holy Spirit, God-within-us, we offer belonging and are enabled to be reminders of God’s hope, God’s joy, God’s peace, and God’s love until Christ comes again. It is this invitation to actually participate in Christ’s coming that inspires us to hold on and actively wait.
As we continue to consider what it might mean to be a doorkeeper this Advent, awake and alert to the presence of God and Christ’s coming again, I’m reminded of last Christmas. Brad and I were on our way to South Carolina that day to be with his family, and according to our niece and nephew, Olive and Grady, we were taking FOREVER. To be fair, it’s about an 8-hour drive and we were doing our best. But they could not wait for our arrival. And yet, that’s exactly what they did, all throughout the day. Brad’s brother, Alex, sent us photos of Olive and Grady posted in front of the window right by the front door, waiting expectantly to welcome us in, whenever the time might come. Finally, hours later, we pulled into the driveway. As soon as they spotted us, you better believe that front door flung wide open, and we were greeted by the sweetest, most wide-awake little doorkeepers. It’s a memory and an image I intend to keep.
This Advent, as we continue to wait, remember to keep awake. May we notice God-with-us and God-within-us as we seek to participate in God’s good work in the world. As author and priest Fleming Rutledge reminds us in her sermon, The Doorkeeper,
The Lord has come—[the Lord] will come. The life of the Christian church is located and lived at the intersection of those two advents. And in the meanwhile…we stay awake, like the doorkeeper, by watching for signs of his presence in the most unlikely places and the most unlikely people [maybe even, in us]. It will take us by surprise every time, but we will be ready to recognize him when he makes himself known.”
This Advent, may it be so.