Readings:
Isaiah 40: 1-11;
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13;
2 Peter 3: 8-15a;
Mark 1: 1-8

Collect:
Almighty God,
purify our hearts and minds,
That when your Son Jesus Christ
comes again as judge and saviour
we may be ready to receive him,
who is our Lord and our God. Amen

Reflection 

And just like that it’s December. What has been possibly the worst of years for many people is finally winding up. I’ve heard it called ‘the year that didn’t happen’. I understand why, but in another way it’s a year where far too much happened. Too much anxiety, too much disruption, too much fear. Too much death. It’s no wonder that loads of people have already put up their Christmas decorations. Even in church terms, where we usually see these weeks of December as Advent - the ‘waiting’ time - I can really sympathise with the desire to just skip straight to Christmas, and then get this wretched year over and done with. 

But of course, in liturgical terms, that’s not what’s happening at all. Advent isn’t nearly at the end of the year. Whatever our everyday calendar says, Advent is actually the beginning. The old year, the cycle of birth and death, the planting, the harvest, the celebrations and commemorations – they’re all done with. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life.

In these early days of Advent, the lectionary focus is on the prophets of old, and then John the Baptist. We tend to see them as slightly scary, hairy chaps, shouty doom-mongers of the Monty Python variety. As such, it’s easy to dismiss prophets as belonging to ancient times, in a galaxy far, far away. Not something we get involved in these days. 

But if we understand a prophet as someone who points out the presence of God, the work of God, then we come bang up to date. Did you ever see yourself as a prophet??! Maybe with all those lockdown non-haircuts and slightly wild-eyed zoom meetings we’re closer than we think! But seriously, it’s important for us to understand that Christians are called to an active role as heralds of the good news, as bringers of good tidings, as those preparing a way for the Lord, as those pointing out where God is to be seen and found and experienced and worshipped. We’re called to a prophetic life. 

And just like those prophets of old, just like J the B, that’s not an easy calling. We’ll be misunderstood, laughed at, overlooked. Not by God though. Not by the Spirit working deep in our hearts and souls. And not by those who are longing for good news; longing for a day to dawn when the mighty are put down from their thrones and the rich sent away empty, to quote the Magnificat (yes, Mary was a prophet too). Being prophetic is also being political with a small p. Being prophetic is getting stuck into the needs and pains and mess of the world, and pointing to God in the middle of it all – the God who came in poverty and vulnerability, who lived in controversy and danger, who died in loneliness and apparent failure. 

That kind of God makes sense to me after the year we’ve just had, and probably much of the year to come. That kind of God speaks loudly of a new beginning, a new hope, a new dawn. At the darkest point of the year in the northern hemisphere, and in a dark time for our world, our nation, our communities, our churches, even our own families, we’re called to be the voice crying out in the wilderness of it all – Here comes the Son.

Sharon Grenham-Thompson-Thompson