Please excuse the bad pun, but I couldn’t resist.

This weekend, Stephen and I got to see Handel’s Messiah performed by the Charlotte Symphony. I had never heard the entire composition, and certainly never in person. For most of my life I thought Messiah belonged only to Easter, not Christmas—after all, the “Hallelujah Chorus” feels like something that should burst out of an empty tomb, not a quiet Bethlehem night. It has only been in the past few years that I have even heard it at Christmastime.

But there we were, in Advent, waiting for the show to begin. It had already been a full weekend as the night before we attended the Xperience Show, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” at the church. These two experiences together were a really beautiful combination to dig into the mystery of what this Season is all about.

There was something wonderfully ironic about the journey from Charlie Brown to Handel.

Charlie Brown Christmas was disarming. It was so well-done by the Xperience. We have such a talented and wonderful group of high school youth. They were passionate to share both nights their gifts of worship leadership and faith. They dug into Schultz’s story and allowed us to explore Charlie Brown desperation to find meaning in the face of all of the other dynamics of the season.

And the resolution does come for Charlie, after quite a hard time. The power of the Gospel comes alive to him. The words of Luke 2 coupled with the kindness of his friends decorating the sad little Christmas tree that he picked out.

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while[a] Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to their own town to register.

4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Then comes Handel—building on the amazing discovery Charlie Brown made. And with strings and trumpets and voices that rise like the prayers of generations, Handel sets those same Scriptures to music that refuses to whisper.

It proclaims. It declares. It announces. It is so sure.

It shakes the dust off our weary souls.

Charlie Brown gives us the question.

Handel gives us the answer.

And yet, both pieces were proclaiming the same Gospel.

Both of these pieces speak to a world that is waiting for God to break in. In this world of escalating turmoil, division, chaos, we yearn for peace. We yearn for hope.

Advent is for the waiting ones. Messiah is for the waiting ones. Charlie Brown is for the waiting ones. All three remind us that we’re not waiting for nothing. We’re waiting for Someone.

This in-between, between question and answer feels like exactly where Advent wants us.

This season holds us in both worlds:

•      a God small enough to fit in a manger

•      and great enough to shake heaven with “Hallelujah!”

•      a Savior who comes quietly

•      and reigns triumphantly

•      a King who enters unnoticed

•      and will return unmistakably

Advent says:

“You are allowed to long. You are allowed to ache. You are allowed to hope—even when hope feels ridiculous.” Charlie Brown reminds us to look deeper, and to not miss what matters. Handel reminds us, Lift your head. The King is coming.” John 1 reminds us: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

And maybe that’s the message we all need right now. Not a sentimental Christmas escape, but a fierce Advent hope. A hope that starts in longing, grows in waiting, and ends in glory. A hope big enough for a broken world, yet tender enough for a hurting heart.

A hope that whispers in a cartoon and roars in a chorus:

Christ has come.

Christ is coming.

Christ will come again.

Peace,

Pastor Adrienne