“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved, and Jerusalem will dwell securely. And this is the name by which it will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’”— Jeremiah 33:14-16

In the spring of 2021 we moved (a byproduct of the spring of 2020) to a new house with a large, lush yard that had been passionately maintained by serious gardeners—which we are not. Michael and I bring a lot of enthusiasm but (beyond a modest annual vegetable patch), limited education when it comes to plant upkeep.

Housebound like the rest of the world, we studied the new property with even more than usual interest and attention. We walked the pathways thoroughly intimidated, stopping at every vine and shrub to read the nursery tags and research their care. Most were familiar in general but new in the specific: RED SEEDLESS GRAPES. UTAH CELERY. SPARTAN APPLE. There were blueberries, rhubarb, hops. Banana! Kiwi!! In our yard!

In any other year, these new-to-us fruits and veg would have been a novelty. However, the strangeness of these days distilled our otherwise curious interest into genuine excitement. In gloomy March, few of the specimens resembled the full-gloried plants their tags assured us they were. We knew what they’d probably look like, we guessed what they’d probably taste like, but we couldn’t wait to see and taste the reality.

In due course, in their own right seasons (totally oblivious to our impatience), each plant revealed its new budding life, then its flowering beauty, then, finally, its delicious, long-awaited fruit—all exactly as promised. In gratitude to the former homeowners, who had the foresight to set these life cycles in motion, we ate, fully enjoying the product of their great labor and our great hope.

It’s now late November. All that new growth has gone to ground again—after all, ‘tis the season. And right now, after two freakish years, it’s clear that we all need a little Christmas right this very minute.


I mean, friends have been decking the halls since before Halloween!

I get it. I sat in this same space last year, humming Christmas carols, grasping at the familiar comfort of our family traditions, and turning a glazed eye toward the brilliant potential of 2021. After 2020’s fallow season (i.e. dumpster fire), 2021 was supposed to yield a harvest of “normal.” But it didn’t. On the contrary, 2021 has continued to sing the song of lament and longing for justice that 2020 set on loop, revealing that “normal” is not necessarily healthy, or good, or something we ought to cultivate ever again.

Right now especially, Christmas is merely an anchor point for a greater yearning that digs deep into our being. We long for Christmas past because we need Christ present. And because of the strangeness of these days, there’s a desperation, an urgency to this need that we might otherwise, in more “normal” times, have glossed right over. We need, right this very minute, the promised Christmas bough in bloom—the Branch whose delicious fruit is divine justice, the security and salvation of our very souls, and the re-righting of all we have lost or destroyed in the past year or lifetime. The Branch whose God-given nursery label declares, “THE LORD IS OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS”. This is both a right-now guarantee and a future hope: we have him (hallelujah!), and/yet/but/still/also we must wait patiently for his coming—trusting in all that God has set in motion to come to fruition.

Advent. The day is coming. The Lord, our Righteousness, is here, AND He is COMING. The promise laid in the manger is growing into fullness, and it is coming. While we wait, we will watch, singing carols over the seedlings of our faith, and we will hope.

Lord, who is our Righteousness,

We need you—right this very minute! All our hope rests in you. Help us to endure the waiting and not lose that hope. Open our senses and strengthen our spirits in this season to watch and witness for your sake.

Amen.