November is almost over, and we find ourselves in the season of Advent, a rushed yet prolonged period of waiting for Christmas. The Advent countdown calendars remind us of how much more time there is before Christmas, sometimes contributing more to anxiety that comes from waiting. But is this really a time of idle waiting, like the waiting at the doctor’s office lobby, or the airport terminal? The weeks leading up to Christmas can certainly feel like a time of idle waiting, but if Advent is nothing more than waiting, then the joy and wonder of Christmas becomes reduced to little more than a ritualistic timeline of “obligatory” events; we wait for winter break from school, we wait for Black Friday sales, we wait to open presents.

As the words of the twice-translated hymn “Savior of the Nations, Come” warns (“Boundless shall your kingdom be; When shall we its glories see?”), Advent really isn’t for waiting, it is for preparing. When we prepare for something, we often do it in response to a warning. “Warning: hot coffee” prepares us to be extra careful. “Caution: detour ahead” prepares us in advance as we travel. Like an obstreperous street preacher in the public square crying doomsday at innocent passersby, John the Baptist warns us with the announcement of Christ’s imminent arrival. Like a well-meaning father-in-law warns his departing guests with route suggestions that will avoid travel hazards, the angels’ warning to Mary and Joseph to avoid Herod saves them from certain death. Like a mother teaching her children to not to go off with strangers, Jesus warns his disciples that imposters will try to trick them into denying him as the only way, the only truth, and the only life. Warnings abound all throughout Advent and the earthly life of Jesus.

Warning? Why does the Gospel—a radically inclusive and life-changing story—warn us, when we’d rather it just abolish the law that condemns us? Consider that unlike consumer product warning labels which are meant to protect the manufacturer of the item (“caution: hot coffee”), biblical warnings are meant for our own benefit (“Watch out… the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.”). These warnings are the result of God’s genuine love for us—love that calls every one of us to deny ourselves and follow Jesus’ commands. While the law which God set before us is something no one can fully obey, Jesus comes not to abolish the law but to fulfill it, and now the new warnings given us are made for our salvation, not our condemnation.

The Lutheran theologian Martin Marty composed a thoughtful reflection with a theme surrounding the word "warning", as it relates to the Christmas chorale, "Break Forth, O Beauteous Heavenly Light.” In this chorale, the singer encourages the shepherds to not be afraid by the angels’ presence, because they bring good news. 

“Warning! You singers of chorales leave the world of the casual and the chummy, and stand on dangerous ground. You might even fall on it the way the shepherds did, as we picture artists through the ages showing them, for they were so afraid. Warning! The original [Scripture] says simply the angel tells them, but the [hymn] translation reads, ‘ye shepherds, shrink not with afright, but hear the angels’ warning.’ Warning? The angel brings the best news at least since the creation of the world, and we get warned? Precisely. A warning is an alert, a call to become aware, an urging that one be put on guard, a call to action.

Warning! Biblical angels are not cute and cuddly little cherubs marketed at new age bookstores. ‘Ein jeder Engel ist schrecklich’ (‘Every angel is terrifying’) wrote Rilke. Angels break in with shocking news, that Elizabeth in her old age and Mary in her virginity will bear children. Or announcing to the alarmed women at the empty tomb that Christ has been raised. In wonder, they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them, for they were afraid. The shepherds, the women, we singers of the chorales then hear words of comfort, ‘be not afraid,' but first, we are stunned. Warning! We will blink in the brightness of the beauteous heavenly light that ushers in perpetual morning to the soul.”

This Advent season, stop idly waiting, and instead prepare. Prepare the way for Christ to come and enter your heart. Put off obstacles and distractions that keep you from worship attendance, daily devotion and prayer, and heartfelt charity towards others. And make ready your home—not just your physical dwelling—for the coming of a King. He wants to dwell in your heart.