Waiting For The Snow

I write from my bedroom tonight. The kids are playing downstairs and their voices are somewhere between having fun and about to hurt each other.

It’s a tradition in my family: no Christmas music until Thanksgiving Day. Not because I am Ebenezer Scrooge, but because I want my children to anticipate the season. Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, they are certainly in the Christmas spirit. Whether this actually builds anticipation or not, I don’t know. I suppose I’ll learn the truth when my grandchildren tell me what their parents thought of my tradition.

While we’re on the subject, we’re under a winter storm warning, and the forecasters are calling for 6–10 inches of snow. I love snowstorms, but I always worry when they land on the weekend. “Should I cancel the service?” is one of the hardest decisions I make. Not for the parishioners, though—they always know the answer.
“Pastor, I won’t make it, but you need to be at the church in case a wayward soul wanders through the blizzard looking for Jesus.”
Or, “Pastor, think of the old folks and cancel.”
Or, “A little snow never got in the way of my worship.”
(I poke fun, but I cherish these calls and texts.)

But I am skeptical. I think forecasters like to get our attention—and drive revenue through the ads on their websites—so they stretch what they see on the radar. Too often I’ve hoped for a storm to wallop the city, only to wake up to nothing more than a hard frost. Picture me on the front porch, arms crossed, saying, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” like every true Minnesotan—except I’m not from Minnesota.

But that’s anticipation: expecting something without knowing exactly how it will turn out. Without that mystery, without the chance for a storm to go one way or another, anticipation would be boring—and without hope.

I’ve always thought Advent was a bit strange. We anticipate the birth of Christ, knowing full well He was born long ago. Wasn’t Advent for people on the other side of Bethlehem? And yet we we still wait and Christmas points to His return in power and great glory. Like Advent, we wait for our Deliverer. There is still hope for this weary world. Some are skeptical, some deny the power, and some place all the hope they have in the promises of God.

All humanity waits, and we anticipate, and we hope that we are right.

Bless you.
Pastor.