Have you ever felt sad around Christmastime? Have you ever felt guilty for feeling sad around Christmastime? Take it from someone who has dealt with unseasonable melancholy for the better part of the last three decades: you are not alone. The “Christmas blues” can really hit me at any time, but I have noticed that it is especially pronounced during our annual Christmas Eve service.

We gather together in a darkened sanctuary, illuminated by candlelight. We shake off the cold of winter, as we huddle into our seats, shoulder-to-shoulder. We look around and see that family and friends have returned home, and are rejoining our fellowship for the holidays. We experience the spark of Christmas wonder, as we pause and rest in worship together.

I come from a church tradition that places a high emphasis on congregational singing, so these services are filled to the brim with some of our most treasured songs. It is during this service that we sing lyrics like, “a weary world rejoices,” “all oppression shall cease,” and “the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight,” and despite the beauty of it all, I fight back the tears.

I have come to think that maybe a little melancholy makes sense. On the one hand, Christmas is a time for jubilant celebration of the birth of Jesus. Not to mention all the festive traditions we have developed to mark the season—soaring choir music, giving of gifts, and sharing of meals!

But on the other hand, something’s not quite right. If only I could completely ignore that knot in my stomach, the one that keeps reminding me that despite Christ’s arrival, our world is still weary, oppression has not ceased, and many of my hopes and fears remain restless.

All of human life is one long experience of yearning, played out in this paradoxical reality: that which we long for has indeed already arrived. As one of my professors used to enigmatically declare, “We live in the yet, but not yet!”

We order our lives by the belief that the incarnation of God in our midst already changed everything, and yet we cannot shake our disappointment over the brokenness that continues to plague our communities. We cast our faith on the providence of God, believing that God is actively bringing deliverance and healing to our world, and yet our hearts ache for deliverance and healing now.

Yet, but not yet. God’s timing is perplexing.

Time Management

Lately, I have been thinking about the work of preaching as an exercise in time management. You could take that literally (I’m looking at you, preachers who routinely go into overtime on Sunday morning), but I mostly mean it figuratively.

When we craft our sermons, we do so from distinct moments in time. Our work is always rooted in the present unfolding lives of our particular communities. And yet, all of our sermons are bearing witness to something timeless and infinite—the eternal God whose love and grace extend immeasurably beyond our present moment.

Our sermons are rooted in time, giving voice to that which is beyond time. Our writing processes, therefore, require some measure of imagination, some willingness to creatively manage time—to weave God’s timing with our own.

Past and Future

Sermons interlace heaven and earth; they speak of realities that span past and future, while reckoning with the conditions of our own present moment. And let’s be honest—we need stories of God’s redemptive history and the hope of God’s redemptive future, lest we be consumed by the conditions of the present. How else could a weary world rejoice?

So maybe if the season of Advent feels like a mixed bag of celebration and sadness, we are simply leaning into the mystery of living in the “yet, but not yet.” We are acknowledging our perpetual need for good news, even as we celebrate the arrival of Christ.

To declare peace where there is violence, joy where there is heartache, and wonder where there is contempt is to remind ourselves and our churches that God is still at work. Sorrow will not have the final word. Our present moment does not dictate the terms and conditions of the gospel. Rather, the gospel sets the terms and conditions for the way we navigate our present moment.

The Light of Advent

This is, after all, what makes the season of Advent so very powerful! Advent does not eliminate or gloss over our suffering and despair. Rather, Advent meets us in the shadowy depths of human life, and holds up a light to guide us through.

Christ was born into a world full of tyranny and cruelty, polarization and skepticism, poverty and injustice. Though the Roman Empire remained intact for a time, Jesus provided his followers with everything they would need to navigate it.

Though poverty continued after Jesus ascended into heaven, Jesus had equipped his followers with a ministry of generosity. Though humanity continued to bear the marks of mortality through suffering and loss, Jesus gave us the hope of glory beyond our suffering. The arrival of Christ did not abolish harm in this world; but it did provide us with the means to withstand it and to confront it.

Preaching Advent in a weary world gives us the opportunity to face our present moment with the inbreaking hope of Christ. It is to stare down the powers and principalities that afflict us, and declare that God has already won.

To preach Advent is to cast the widest net we possibly can at the expansive, eternal goodness of God, and to tether that timeless gospel to our own moment. We preach the yet, but not yet, and it empowers us to keep going.

Here are some ideas for how we might “manage time” in our Advent sermons this season.

Advent Sermon Series Ideas

TITLE: Mary the Seer

SCRIPTURE: Luke 1:46-55

EXEGETICAL NOTES: The Magnificat, or Mary’s Song, is one of the most popularly read scriptures during the season of Advent. When Mary breaks into song, she remarkably weaves together declarations of the past, present, and future. God has already come to the aid of those in need, and the promise extends into eternity. Therefore, Mary rejoices now, and looks to the salvific work of God in her own time, in her own place. Mary’s capacity to see God’s timing in her own time gives her a prophetic edge. Like the prophets and seers of the Old Testament, Mary’s words highlight the bigger picture of God’s deliverance, while confronting the injustices of her own context. The Magnificat epitomizes the experience of “yet, but not yet.”

TITLE: In You, We Wait

SCRIPTURE: Psalm 25:1-22

EXEGETICAL NOTES: There are countless texts that bear witness to the theme of waiting on the Lord, but Psalm 25 gives voice to the intrinsic risk of waiting in a perilous time, and the trust required for such waiting. Verse 5 says, “for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.” But this declaration only comes after first confessing a fear of shame. What if we cast our hope on this “yet, but not yet” promise of God, only to be sorely disappointed? What if we choose to trust in God’s deliverance, but that deliverance never arrives? The psalmist pleads for God to provide in the meantime—to provide guidance and instruction—so that we can continue to faithfully wait.

TITLE: Shouting from the Ruins

SCRIPTURE: Isaiah 52:7-10

BIG IDEA: Our congregants might be more familiar with the portion of Isaiah that follows these verses—the “suffering servant” verses. But just before this famous part of Isaiah, we read these beautiful and wondrous verses of hope in the midst of ruins. The people of God have been conquered and scattered; their lands have been laid to waste. But God is active, declaring victory even in the wake of their destruction. “Break forth; shout together for joy, you ruins of Jerusalem, for the Lord has comforted his people; he has redeemed Jerusalem.” You might read these verses and think, “wait—he has comforted his people? As in, past tense?” Indeed—the prophet manages time, dealing in the yet, but not yet. So, too, our people must be reminded that our present suffering is always connected to God’s ongoing, perpetually unfolding deliverance. This is not to spiritually bypass the suffering of our people, but rather to draw them up into a bigger story: our present moment is held by a God who also holds past and future.

Amy McLaughlin-Sheasby is an Assistant Professor in the College of Biblical Studies at Abilene Christian University in Abilene, Texas.