35) Hospital blues, Advent gold
The kind nurse brought me some toiletries earlier so that I could take a shower. It felt good to wash off some of the sweat and the stress and A&E dramas of the previous day. And now, sat up in the armchair beside my hospital bed, I can see the view across to Mount Lofty and the big cloudy sky. Yesterday, I lay in bed during those long hours, and watched the clouds make their slow way across the window frame. It made me think of air travel – how the view out the window changes so slowly. And how some flights take forever and ever to get anywhere. I guess it’s no surprise my mind had wandered to planes and travel; this here is the last place I’d like to be. Like Nanci Griffiths sings, “I’m working on a morning flight to anywhere but here.” Indeed. I think it was Buechner who said, “Go where your best prayers take you.” Right now, that would be home. But I’m trapped. Quite literally wired up with tubes in my arms. And not even a cup of tea to soften my anxiety – ‘nil by mouth’ until I see another doctor.
I’ve never been good at waiting. It’s strange then that the season of Advent would have become my favourite time in the church year. Over the last four weeks, as a congregation, we have revisited those precious stories of the Incarnation. We reflected on how God broke into the lives of Mary and Joseph, Elizabeth and Zechariah. We considered how Simeon held the long-awaited Jesus in his arms and said, “my eyes have seen Your salvation… this light to the Gentiles.” This Light of the world. Richard Malloy SJ invites us to place ourselves into each nativity scene as a way of bringing Advent more fully into our present lives: “to gaze on Mary holding Jesus. She looks tired… Joseph too looks weary… almost fearful... [And then] Mary turns to [you] and asks, ‘Do you want to hold Him?’” This Emmanuel – God with us! – this Mighty God and Eternal Father, come down as a helpless child, born to Mary and Joseph.
And there is such hope to be found in this vulnerable Christ-child. God has stepped into our world. He knows our hurts and pain, knows what family life can be like, knows what friendship is, knows what betrayal is – this man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. In the Incarnation, we see a God who is really with us. Not in some abstract way. And not in some privileged way, born in some palace like the Magi first expected, but rather into poverty, displacement, everyday struggle. And I can approach this Saviour, battle-weary and worn as I am, and be met with empathy, and be greeted with love. The very knowledge that God’s plan for salvation has come wrapped-up in a helpless babe, entrusted to parents who would become refugees, tells me that there is no limit to what God can do with just a couple of people who have said yes to Him. Despite what the world may throw, through the obedience of Mary and Joseph, God’s blessing goes out.
No wonder the Incarnation is accompanied with so much song – Mary’s song, Zechariah’s song, Simeon’s song, even the host of heaven appearing and singing “glory to God and peace...” I love Zephaniah’s words: “the Lord thy God is in your midst, mighty to save, He will rejoice over you with gladness, His love will engender calm, and He will delight over you with singing.” A Saviour is in our midst – and we sing, and the angels sing, and God sings. The work of salvation and peace – a cause for joyful song. No wonder Wesley declares, O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise! See: ancient prophecies are coming true; God is fulfilling the hopes and dreams of generations both past and future. Prepare for the Messiah, get ready to receive the Good News: “Make a straight highway for our God in the desert, lift up the valleys and level the mountains, make smooth the rough ground… here comes your God… [the One who] protects His flock like a shepherd, and gathers the lambs in His arms,”
And now that He is here, we can know that we’ve not been cast adrift, or forgotten, or abandoned as orphans. Like David says, there’s nowhere we can go and find ourselves away from God’s presence. Jesus promised He’d be with us always until the end of the age. There is no place and no season in which we are not fully met. And that includes this hospital stay.
This Advent, we ponder the mystery of Jesus, who comes to save us, in humility and perfect love – God’s own Benediction. And we wait with expectation for what God may yet do in our lives. I love those words from Micah – “I will perform miracles for [My people] as in the days of the exodus from the land of Egypt.” I will show them wonders, for nothing is impossible with God. But we must come believing, and open to possibility, and open to Love – with a heart ready to say yes.
Because of Advent, I am reminded that God keeps His promises. I see Him reaching out to save us and to bring His light and His peace. I see a God who is mindful of the lowly and vulnerable, and understands our difficulties.
Because of Advent, I know that God does amazing things in the lives of ordinary people.
Because of Advent, I know that waiting doesn’t always mean dread, it can mean eagerness and obedience. Love has brought God near. Love itself has come near. If there’s one thing I’m eager to know, it is love.
Here in this hospital room, amidst all the uncertainty, anxiety, and discomfort, I need the God of Advent. And I find Him in the familiar Advent readings, and am comforted. I consider these long hours of my present waiting, and my mind wanders to Simeon’s long years of waiting, or those long years between the prophets’ words and the Incarnation itself. And somewhere in there, I find a way to trust in God’s timing. I don’t say that lightly: only last weekend, I planted pink cosmos and blue lobelia into the gaps in one of the garden beds. The sweet peas by the front door had long-since gone to seed, so I pulled out the dried stems, and planted summer colour. And a friend gave me some lilies which I planted underneath the silver birch. The lilies may be ok, but it all needs watering! And I’m in here, while the temperature is climbing out there… None of this makes the waiting easier. And yet, I’ve not learned a lesson of Advent, if I don’t know what it is to wait and to trust.
Every year we sing, The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight. And so, in this Advent season, with this unexpected hospital stay, and later when I return home to rescue the garden, and during Christmas and beyond – I must know that all hope and all fear is met in this Christ-child, the One who carries this wounded lamb so close to His heart. And so, I bring it all – the hopes and fears, pain, anxiety, and longing – and He meets it all. Where else could I take it? Where else would I take it?
Love divine, all loves excelling, Joy of heaven to earth come down…
Breathe, oh breathe Thy loving Spirit into every troubled breast!
Let us all in Thee inherit, Let us find the promised rest.
Olly Ponsonby, Christmas Eve 2024.
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Scripture refs. Lk 2:30, Jn 9:5, Is 9:6, Is 53:3, Mt 11:28, Lk 1:45, Lk 1:46-55, Lk 1:67-79, Lk 2:13-14, Zeph 3:17, Is 40:3-11, Jn 14:18, Ps 139:7-8, Mt 28:20, Mic 7:15, Lk 2:25-32, Is 40:11.
“I’m working on a morning flight…” quote by Nanci Griffith, from ‘Late Night Grande Hotel’ © Universal Music Publishing Group, 1991.
“Go where your best prayers…” quote by Frederick Buechner, in ‘Telling Secrets: A Memoir’ https://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/books/reviews/excerpts/view/14169?id=14169
Richard Malloy SJ quote taken from “Stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand” in “Thirsty, and you gave me drink: homilies and reflections for Cycle C.” Edited by Deacon Jim Knipper. Clear Faith Publishing, 2021.
‘O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing’ by Charles Wesley, 1739. Public domain. https://hymnary.org/text/o_for_a_thousand_tongues_to_sing_my
The hopes and fears…” taken from ‘O Little town of Bethlehem’ by Phillips Brooks, 1868. Public domain. https://hymnary.org/text/o_little_town_of_bethlehem
‘Love divine, all loves excelling’ by Charles Wesley, 1747. Public domain. https://hymnary.org/text/love_divine_all_love_excelling_joy_of_he