The advent of Advent

So now it's Advent. The voice of one crying in the wilderness for repentance rings ever so faintly- perhaps dimly in memory. Poor people shuffle around, as poor people are wont to do. Trying to establish permanence is the business of those who have a little bit more. I work on the side of town where children are shuffled in and out of school, so often that though I have never seen statistics, I would guess they miss a full year by the time they hit secondary school.

"Repent!" I also hear another word on the news for the first time in my medium sized memory- recession. It seems there will be more of us among the poor, more of us beloved of God, more of us with fewer choices, more of us taking shallow breaths and glancing at our neighbors as though they were our enemies. We are a little more afraid. The seeds planted by the Baby boomers have sprouted. They are gnarled vines with twining branches of debt and short-sightedness.

So I ask myself, "What do I hear God saying?" The answer- I am sorry to say- is not much. It is after all Advent, the season of preparation, a time of getting ready. While I wait, I wonder, "Will my children suffer?" You see, it is one thing to eat locusts and honey and be called crazy. It is something else entirely, when your children suffer. I have learned something in all my wanderings. You have to know who you are because people will call you everything in the world. I have been called everything from wicked to wise, so I must know who I am while I wait for the voice of God.