Where Is God?

A Reflection on the Second Reading for Sunday, December 10th, 2023:
Second Sunday in Advent

---

2 Peter
3:8-14

Do not ignore this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. The Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.
​
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a loud noise, and the elements will be dissolved with fire, and the earth and everything that is done on it will be disclosed.

Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God, because of which the heavens will be set ablaze and dissolved, and the elements will melt with fire? But, in accordance with his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.

Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

There’s an apocryphal story, often attributed to Saint Aloysius, that I dearly love. He and some seminarians were playing chess and one asked what they would do if they had an hour left to live. One said he’d go to Confession. Another said he’d pray in Adoration. St Aloysius said, “I would simply finish my game of chess.” He had such confidence in his relationship with God and such trust in his superiors that he relied on the wisdom that led him to enjoying this leisure time, and he saw no reason to break that pattern. 

I’ve always been drawn to end-of-the-world stories, in books and movies alike. There’s something so fascinating about asking ourselves what we’d do and how we’d cope if all the trappings of modern life, good and bad, simply fell away. As we spend this Advent season looking ahead to the birth of Jesus, the world around us turns to lights and presents, but the Mass readings seem to turn dark, focusing on the end of the world. It’s the greatest apocalyptic tale ever told—not just zombies or plagues, but a global transformation. At the core of most apocalypse stories is a quiet undercurrent of hope: hope that we can start over, hope that we would care for one another when the going gets tough, hope that humanity is still worth saving even when the modern world feels hopeless. These stories always wrestle with those who commit great evils and those who are trying to do the right thing—and as in real life, those are often the same person. 

As followers of Jesus, we don’t simply have to hope that we are loved and worth saving. Our God has already made this promise! He is eager to give us His love, excited to help us grow in goodness. I’m not there yet. I can think of many things I would want to do if I knew my death approached imminently—there are lots of things I would want to set right with God and with my loved ones. Thankfully, as Paul writes, the Lord is patient with us. When humanity makes us feel hopeless, we can pin our hopes on Him. When we are worried and anxious about many things, we can rest in Him. The more we learn to rely on God, the more peace we have. That peace is not rooted in external circumstances; the world could be falling around us, and God’s peace in us is unchanged. We can become the saint who plays chess as the world falls apart. It is a gift that we can rely on to the very end. 




Jenna Young

---