As I sit at my kitchen table on this foggy morning, this is my view. The fog is so thick we can barely see the freeway, just three blocks away. We know it’s there. We can see the parade of cars that move down our street toward the ramp. We can hear the sounds of rush hour traffic and we can see the glow of headlights and taillights as the cars move up the onramp for the daily pilgrimage to San Francisco.
It makes me wonder: How much of our Advent journey feels like this – a kind of inexorable movement through dense fog toward something we know is there, but which we cannot see clearly, if at all. How do we hang on to a vision of Hope, Peace, Joy and Love that we can’t yet perceive? How do we keep moving toward a goal we’re not sure we can find?
Some days – most days – the long view is almost impossible to see. But if we look closely, I wonder if we can catch a glimpse of the headlights and taillights of friends and neighbors showing us the way through the fog as they move toward hope. I wonder if we can hear the sounds of other pilgrims on this journey as they move toward that Peace which is, little by little, becoming a reality?
Even now, as I finish this post, the fog is becoming thicker, closing in the view even more. And still, the cars and busses and bicycles roll by. And I can remember: Christ is still on his way…
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