The anticipation of Advent is supposed to build us up, not make us exhausted.
Usually, the anticipation of a thing is better than the thing itself. Most of us know the experience of waiting for that special toy on Christmas morning, only to be bored with it not long after. Of course, some things aren’t like that. Hopefully, the anticipation of a marriage does not surpass the marriage itself, or the wait for a vacation doesn’t exceed the excitement of the trip. But, on the whole, it seems true that reality hardly lives up to imagination.
Isn’t there a small problem with a Christmas that is less impactful than Advent?
Christmas is one of those holidays that, in the context of being a religious holiday, is supposed to be better than the anticipation. That may seem obvious on the surface, but most of us don’t experience Christmas that way. Most people enjoy the Advent season—the carols, traditions, decorations, baking of seasonal favorites, and gathering of family and friends. By the time Christmas actually comes, we’re over it. We’re exhausted. All that effort, all the scurrying, the commitments (the lower bank balance)—whew! It’s over, I can rest now.
But isn’t there a small problem with a Christmas that is less impactful than Advent? After all, Advent is a season of waiting. It builds anticipation for the coming Messiah. Each progressive lighting of an Advent Candle draws us more and more into the experience of anticipation. Not that Christmas is all about how we feel. Both Advent and Christmas are objectively about what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. But there is more to holidays than just theological remembrance.
Advent and Christmas are invitations to enter into certain rhythms of worship. They are intentional structures that pull us out of our normal, everyday experiences and call us to new experiences in this present life, things to celebrate and things to come. These experiences should nourish weary souls like a warm cup of tea on a cold winter’s morning soothes the morning blues. The anticipation of Advent is supposed to build us up, not make us exhausted.
You see this in the Bible’s stories surrounding Jesus’ birth. The Magi anticipate finding a great King as they journey afar, led by the Christmas star. The shepherds in the field met by an angelic chorus’ anticipate the Savior as they rush to see the little baby. Mary, with the Christ-Child in her womb, anticipates the birth of the one who fashioned her out of the dust. It’s all a huge buildup as centuries of prophecy and longing punctuate in a singular moment in the dusty outskirts of a rural Judean village.
So, what should our response be to Christmas? How can we ensure the buildup is not met with a letdown? The answer comes from Mary, the Magi, and the shepherds: we worship. The proper response to the buildup of Advent is the joyful and focused worship of our Savior.
When the Magi hear about the Christ child they say, “We have come to worship him” (Matt. 2:2).
When Mary hears that she will bear the Savior, she prays, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” (Luke 1:46-47).
And when the Shepherds leave the manger after seeing the baby Jesus, we hear, “And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them” (Luke 2:20). No let-downs here—just abundant celebrations of praise.
The response to Christmas is worship. We worship properly because Advent teaches us what to focus on. It has prepared us and set our expectations. Now, the waiting is over, so we praise God for who he has sent to us. What does it mean to worship God in this way? Worship is a big topic, but in this sense, it’s quite easy. Like the Christmas carol teaches us, it means to remember God and adore him for who he is.
Into the restlessness of human experience comes the Prince of Peace. He is given to us, and, for that, we worship.
The Psalms teach us to pray this way, to remind ourselves (God doesn’t need reminding) who God is. When we praise him, we declare the truth about who He is. And by doing that, we remind ourselves of who he is and what he’s promised. That praiseful-proclamation realigns us (‘orders us’ in the older language) to what is most important.
Tomorrow is Christmas, so let’s worship the newborn King. What has been given to us is a Savior. Joy is to be had! The old ways are fading into memory. The reign of death is no more. The new Kingdom is here and advancing.
We praise because every lonely heart, every victim, every scourge of guilt and shame is nailed to a cross. Into the restlessness of human experience comes the Prince of Peace. He is given to us, and, for that, we worship. We focus not on ourselves, but on the gift that God has given—is giving to a weary world of sin.
On Christmas day, Christ has come, darkness flees, hope abounds, grace ensues, and the dwelling place of God, is with man. So we worship. We remember. We praise. We glorify God.
Oh come, let us adore him—Christ the Lord!
