Advent Longing.

This world of our is pretty and predictable, and we like it that way, God.

We wake when we want, we eat what we want, we wear what we want, we do what we want. We have our way without thought or care and call it the "American Dream". We've built this kingdom, and isn't she a beauty?

It took years to form her - decades of work, miles of land, and just a little spilt blood. And we said it was "good". We are self-proclaimed, self-secure, self-reliant.

And we've forgotten…

That just outside our windows, just outside the door, just across the street, just across the pond

Lingers the residue of that which brought us here.

The stranger spurned, the outsider rejected, the poor taken advantage of, the foreigner killed just in case.

We are a creating people, and what we have made with our soiled hands is certainly, certainly not good. We've made a mess of things, haven't we.

And we need saving.

We've heard some stories, old ones, dear ones. Ones that makes us wonder…

Could You come? We've heard some call You a re-creating Creator. We've heard of One born to make things like us into things like You.

Even our little, grimy hearts have hope.

O come, oh would You please come, Emmanuel.