For Wilshire Baptist Church
The yellow, two-story wood-frame house had stood on the street for decades. The tax roll says it was built in 1963, but I’m certain that’s an error. It easily looked like it could be 100 years old, and its age was showing. From the street it appeared that the walls were all leaning toward the center and that the house might fall in on itself at any moment. Maybe that’s why it took just one day to tear it down, and one day after that to haul the remains away. There just wasn’t much holding it up.
We’ve learned the large over-sized lot has been divided into two standard-sized lots and two homes will be built there. Like the rest of our neighbors, we’ll be interested to know what types of homes will be built there — the size and architectural style. And we’ll be interested in how long it takes to build them. (And oh, aren’t we glad we don’t live next door to what will be a busy, noisy construction site for the better part of a year.) And then of course we’ll be interested to know what type of people will move in. We hope they’ll fit in.
But for now, all we can do is wait and see. We can speculate and guess, but that doesn’t accomplish much. The best thing we can do is be patient and be prepared.
Be patient and be prepared. I understand the idea that Advent is a time of waiting, being patient and being prepared. I understand that it’s a physical and spiritual exercise that focuses our attention on the central story of our faith and in fact our entire being. But I have a hard time putting myself into the story and waiting on something that has already occurred. We have the scriptures that tell us what happened, and the theologians and preachers to tell us why it happened. And we have the Holy Spirit to plant the seeds of belief and understanding in our hearts. With so much information already available, it’s difficult to pretend that we are hearing and seeing the story for the first time.
But even if we can’t really wonder anew about what has already happened, we still can prepare ourselves. We can use this as a time to prepare our own hearts — our own house, as it were — and really, to reset, reawaken and recommit ourselves to what has already happened and can happen fresh in us each day.
The twist of Advent is that we’re not so much waiting for God to enter our house as we are preparing to enter a house that God has already built within us. Some years ago, a prayer in the Catholic liturgy was changed from, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you . . .” to, “Lord, I am not worthy to enter under your roof . . .” It’s an acknowledgment that the house has already been built for us, but we need to prepare ourselves to enter.
Meanwhile, it’s not difficult at all to put myself into the story of what is happening down the street. After all, the questions and concerns I have must be what our neighbors had 10 years ago when our house was under construction on what had long been a vacant lot. They no doubt wondered what size and style of house we would build. And I’m sure they wondered who was going to live in it and if we’d fit in. And while wondering about all of that, they had to endure nine months of construction noise, traffic and debris.
As for whether the new neighbors will fit in, that’s really up to us, isn’t it? That really depends on whether or not we have prepared ourselves to offer them the same hospitality that God offers us at Advent and every day.