Rhythms of Grace

​A Reflection on the Psalm for Sunday, December 3rd, 2023:
First Sunday of Advent

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Psalm 80

R. Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, you who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth. Stir up your might, and come to save us. 

R. Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Turn again, O God of hosts; look down from heaven, and see; have regard for this vine, the stock that your right hand has planted. 

R. Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

But let your hand be upon the man at your right, the son of man you have made strong for yourself. Then we will never turn back from you; give us life, and we will call on your name. 

​R. Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

This weekend, we enter into the liturgical season of Advent. A time of waiting. A time of anticipation. Before Christ, the majority of the northern hemisphere spent this time awaiting the winter solstice – the longest night of the year. The bleakest day of the bleak midwinter. The solstice acknowledged the midpoint in the cruel, cold season of winter.

But as Christians, we’re not waiting for the midway point in our battle against the elements. We’re waiting for something far more beautiful. Far more precious. We join in the cry of the ancient Jewish people – “Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved.” We call out for the same Messiah – remembering His first arrival as a helpless babe born in a barn and awaiting in joyful hope His return. We are caught in the liminal space after that longest night of creation. The space where death has been defeated, where our God was born, lived, died, and was resurrected from the dead, and where we long for His second coming.

Through the seasons of the liturgy, we get to bind our lives to that heavenly rhythm of wondrous waiting and glorious triumph – Advent, and then Christmas; Lent, and then Easter. 

We are called to long for that Christ – the Christ who not only deigned to take on our human flesh but also to die for us in due time. With the trust of the Psalmist David, we still believe God is for us and that He will “look down from heaven” and “have regard for this vine.” 

But do I truly surrender to the rhythm of this season? Or am I tempted to get caught up in the glitz and glamour of the secular world’s take on Christ? Even when the secular perspective has the patina of Christianity, it’s far too caught up in the one moment in time – that moment in the manger. Stripped of the absolute scandal of the incarnation and completely separated from the reality that we are waiting for Jesus to come again in victory. 

It can be easy to get swept away by the presents and baking and sparkling lights, Mariah Carey dominating the radio waves and visions of sugar plums. We want to make our waiting into something shiny, with an immediate reward. It would be easier to have a date on the calendar to be aiming for before we get back to the grey days of our regular work, school, and activities.

We are called to reject all attempts to make banal what is meant to be infused with the rhythms of grace. This time of waiting in which we find ourselves is incredibly important. It is not just a remembering of a particular moment in history, but a time of tremendous anticipation. While we make room in our hearts for the gentle power of the Christ child, we are also called to make room in our hearts for the awesome majesty of the glorified Christ. 
A holy waiting. A reminder that our hope remains, no matter the season.




​Stéphanie Potter

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