Wednesday, December 10, 2025
The readings for today are beautiful. Truly. If you haven’t read them yet, take a moment to do so. These are passages that declare to us, over us: God’s justice for the oppressed; a soaring eagle-like disposition; strength for the weak and powerless; provision for the weary and burdened. I noted God is personal, faithful, intentional, capable, compassionate, sustaining, loving (not a conclusive list!) I have held these texts for several days now, wondering what else is there to say? God is showing us what God is like. That’s enough, right?
But what if we are not feeling very eagle like? What if we feel more like dodo birds – heavy headed and lumbering in a human redemption story that feels on the verge of extinction. What if our words this season are – We have been waiting a long time Jesus, for you and your shalom. Are we fools for believing you did, you will? This is liminal space.
Spiritual director, Gemma Ryan says this: Liminal spaces are deeply uncomfortable for us because they are places of not knowing. They confront our need for control and for certainty…
Liminal comes from the Latin word limin, which means threshold. So, these are places of transition, they are places of waiting. My mind automatically fills in: the space between contractions in labour; the days between rent payment and pay cheque; the moments between x-ray and results; the angst between writing an exam and receiving a grade; the years between infancy and a cross. And for a moment, I have an inkling of how a human can bear the waiting.
We look at the whole counsel of the Word. Yes, God can satisfy us with good things, but God also let Thomas touch the nail holes in his hands, let Jacob wrestle a blessing out of Him, and God wrestled with God in the garden of Gethsemane. We might soar on eagles' wings, but we can be sure his eye is also on the sparrow. God sees, God knows. God does not look away from our humanity.
We pray. NT Wright says, The spirit inhabits our pain, and calls out to the father from its darkest depths, by means of God’s people being in prayer. Your groans are prayer. And should we find ourselves short on words, his property is always to have mercy.
We gather. Last Sunday, I knelt to receive Eucharist beside a dear friend. I leaned over and nudged her shoulder, whispering “I’m so glad to be beside you.” The yoke is easier, the burden is lighter, the waiting easier alongside those that love us and love God. Author Annie B Jones says I (almost) always come limping into Advent, desperate for light, but almost too tired to look for it. Then I remember: the Light came looking for me, and that’s the whole point. I had the sense that God was finding me through my friend. I was not alone. His affection was wrapped in hers.
Come to me all who are weary & burdened,
and I will give you rest.
May you find it true in our midst this Advent season.
Pamela Ukrainetz
O Come The Porter's Gate

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