In the darkness of the virgin's womb the holy child grows. In the darkness of the world's pain, the blessed light begins to kindle. In the darkness of our own doubting of thee and of ourselves, the great hope begins to rise again like a lump in the throat: the hope that thou wilt come to us truly, that the child will be born again in our midst, the Prince of Peace in a world at war, the hope that thou wilt ransom us and our world from the darkness that seeks to destroy us.
— from “Come and See,” in Frederick Buechner, The Hungering Dark.
I love so much about this.
The hope “like a lump in the throat.”
The hope that the child can, will, is being “born again in our midst,” especially as peace in the midst of war.
I read recently that the Hebrew word for waiting is the same as the word for hope. In English, waiting seems so passive, but hope isn’t. Hope is active. Hope, it seems to me, keeps us attentive.
Like a lump in the throat.
Lord, this second week of Advent, make it difficult for us to swallow. Teach us to hope. To see the child. To be the bearers of peace amidst war. To kindle light in the darkness.