Amy is another friend I owe to the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College. 

We met rather accidentally when we found ourselves seated together in a large auditorium. Yet, it is a wonder we’d never met before. Our paths once crisscrossed through the English department of a Texas university and even at a local church.

Amy is smart and funny and she has excellent taste in books and music. I follow her playlists on Spotify, and I wish I could follow her library card, too. 

But most importantly, Amy’s writing makes me uncomfortable. That might sound like criticism, but it is my highest praise. She notices things that must be noticed. She questions things that must be questioned. She knows what we must each learn; she knows that ease and comfort are not always our friends.

And Advent is not for the comfortable.

 

Labor Pains

 

“When childbirth is normal, the pain is not a sign of injury; rather, as Sheila Kitzinger has said, it is ‘pain with a purpose.’ By acknowledging your pain, working in suggested ways with your body during childbirth, and remembering that the pain will soon end, you will be more likely to put the pain in perspective and to prevent it from overwhelming you…”

(Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Newborn by Penny Simpkin)

72 hours after my water broke, 36 hours after the heavy labor had begun, 3 hours after I started pushing, I gave birth to my firstborn daughter, Rosemary. I had fought, alongside my husband, mother, midwife, sister-in-law, and a bevy of nurses, for her arrival, and when my screams finally quieted, after midnight, snow was falling outside the hospital.

She was born. My husband looked awestruck, said with wonderment, “She’s perfect.”

Weeks later, my body slowly healing, I was still wondering why it had taken so long.  I’d labored for hours without seeing any progression: had I been doing something wrong?

My instincts had led me to fight the painful contractions; but upon re-reading the childbirth book, I found that I should have tried to accept each one. I should have welcomed the pain, used it.

As Christmas nears, I find myself thinking of Mary.  Did she embrace the pain? Did her labor last for three days, like mine did? I wonder if she understood that her whole life with Jesus would be bookended by pain, from the pain of childbirth to the pain of the cross?  I wonder if she understood that when her groaning finally fell silent, the whole earth felt a thrill of hope!

And then continued groaning for its full deliverance.

//

If I see another beautiful picture of flickering lights or another chocolate advent calendar, I think I’ll scream.  This year, all the beauty and the longing and the quiet yearning just feel like cliches to me.  I’m tired of waiting.  I’m fed up with injustice and violence, death and disease.  I can’t bear to see evil triumph again while we keep waiting under twinkle lights and shiny aluminum ornaments. The waiting doesn’t feel beautiful: it feels like those hours and hours of contractions, with no progression.

If these are the labor pains of God’s kingdom being born, what does it mean to embrace them?  How can we lean into the pain, our hearts heavy with lament? How long, oh Lord, will these contractions last?

The pain is too much for us.  In the prosperous West, we’ve found the epidural of materialism, and made ourselves comfortable for the duration.

But in doing so, what have we lost?

When we can’t feel the pain, we don’t realize how much we need deliverance.  How much we depend on hope. Pain teaches us to hope.  And somehow, to believe that, these thousands of years later, God is still at work, that the long labor will end, that the new kingdom will truly be born. Leaning into that pain, breathing through it, is how the kingdom will come on earth.

“Labor cannot be controlled,” Penny Simpkin warns.  So, too,  God’s new kingdom cannot be controlled; it is being born, all around us, whether we fight for it or against it, whether we can see it or not.  The weary world will rejoice. God’s kingdom will be born on earth.

And we will be awestruck at its perfection.

*

Amy Peterson teaches ESL and works with the Honors Guild at Taylor University.  She writes about pop culture, church, books, food, intercultural communication, mothering, and education; and always, about what it might mean that God is making all things new. Follow her on twitter and read more at her blog.

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