Wait Expectantly for the Savior

I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life. As a child, I spent my time waiting for Christmas, my birthday, and summer vacation. As I grew, I waited on graduation, turning twenty-one, and finding “the one.”

In adulthood, I’ve waited for my husband to return from war, babies to be born, and planes to carry loved ones across the country for long overdue visits. Currently, I’m counting down to the eighteen-month mark of our thirty-six-month-long tour in Korea.

For all the waiting I’ve done, it never gets any easier. I’m still impatient, and it seems like anything I’m truly looking forward to takes an eternity to arrive. In case you haven’t inferred so far, I’m horrible at waiting.

Impatiently, I’ll pace around a room, or daydream about what life will be like when a certain thing finally happens. Often, the waiting makes me irritable, because I want everything good to happen right now. Does this sound familiar?

My impatience makes me wonder what it felt like to be a Jew in the time of Jesus. They had been waiting four hundred years for a certain thing. A hint. A whisper of the Messiah that was promised. Entire generations came and went with no word from above.

And then, suddenly, the angels broke through the sky. The star was overhead. The Savior had come. What a moment!

The thing that strikes me about the people of that time is what they did while they waited. Though they might have felt forgotten or alone, they continued to serve and worship God. They didn’t abandon their faith and walk away. They didn’t yell at their kids because they were so sick of waiting on Jesus to come and rescue them. They simply lived each day in obedience to God and prayed for the return of the Messiah.

There was no wallowing allowed in Israel—only expectant waiting. Unflappable hope.

When I was in my late twenties, my husband was completing a one-year deployment to Afghanistan. He was about ready to leave when a civil uprising in Kyrgyzstan delayed his unit by several weeks. When they were finally cleared to begin their journey home, a volcano erupted in Iceland, further delaying their return.

I waited each day, full of hope that today would be the day we got our phone call. Hope held me together when the disappointment of another day gone threatened to steal my resolve. I didn’t wait gracefully, though. I put my kids to bed early every night so I could wallow and eat chocolate chip cookies somewhere other than the bathroom.

The Jews believed their Savior could come at any moment. They knew Isaiah through and through. They believed their Messiah would rescue them, and they looked forward to each day with anticipation. Maybe today would be the day!

In my house, we use Advent calendars to count down to Christmas. We gather together as a family and let the anticipation of Christmas take over for a little while. We wait expectantly for Christmas morning, and to celebrate the birth of Jesus together. Opening the little doors on the calendars with cheers of, “Only twelve more days!” prepares our hearts for what’s to come.

When people of Jesus’ time woke up that first Christmas Eve, it was a regular day. They weren’t polishing off a cardboard box with little chocolates inside; they were just living!

When Mary gave birth and laid her baby in a manger, the silence they had endured for four hundred years was shattered with shouts from heaven! The wait was over. He was here. Life as they knew it changed in a moment!

I wonder if the shepherds’ hearts were prepared for that moment in the fields with the heavenly host overhead. Could anyone be? What we do know is that they immediately went to find Jesus. They’d had enough silence, and they were ready to be rescued.

Thirty years later, the Savior would begin working miracles throughout their land. He would heal their bodies and their hearts. He would die on a cross and save them from certain death. He’d be betrayed by them, too.

I sit now, waiting expectantly, for the Holy Spirit to remind me who Jesus is. That the Savior who rescued Israel is the same one who rescued me. That their story is part of mine, and that it isn’t over. Shall we prepare our hearts for him? Can we allow the music of the angels to fill our hearts and lift our spirits? Let us drop what we’re doing and run toward the Messiah, full of hope and expectation!

While I happily wait for Christmas morning every year, I also want to prayerfully wait for the return of Jesus every day. He swore not to leave us nor forsake us. He was promised once, and he is promised again. I believe this, but now it’s time to live it.

Father, shower us with grace while we wait. Let us wait for Jesus with eager anticipation. Help us to remember your promise to us—that we will never be apart from you. Thank you for sending your Son to die for us. Thank you for loving us that much. There are no words to express the gratitude in our hearts for such an undeserved gift. Amen.

Becky Yurisich is a full-time Army wife and mom, and an occasional teacher of first graders. She is an unapologetic follower of Jesus and the University of North Carolina Tar Heels. Becky holds a bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education from UNC, and dreams of writing a book. She blogs at beckyyurisich.com.

Photograph © Leon Oblak, used with permission