But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware , keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.
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I’ve been saying “I don’t know” a lot recently. I don’t know what I am doing. I don’t know what people need or expect. I don’t know if I can trust my instincts treading ground that is so unfamiliar. Jesus doesn’t give us much to go on as we wait for his return trip - he only gives us what we know about him from the first go ‘round. We know that he came as the most vulnerable creature on earth- a baby and he died friendless and utterly misunderstood. That blatant openness to come in such an unguarded way and live among us, die of the wounds we inflict and desire to return to us is beyond my ability most days to comprehend. I don’t why God loves us so. I don’t know how to be so open to an excruciatingly painful story without fearing being hurt again and, yet, I lie awake waiting for the one who simply asks us to wait. I don’t know a lot. Maybe in the space between all I think I know and what I don’t know and what I fear, I will be surprised by joy. Because somehow given all that I don’t know I can recognize joy when it comes.
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Holy God, help me in this confusing Advent. Amen