By the Wednesday after the Third Sunday of Advent, we find ourselves in the precise middle of everything—and in charge of very little.
Half the candles have been lit. Half the days remain. Half the preparations are finished, while the other half are waiting patiently in a pile labelled “I’ll deal with that later.” Wednesday has a way of doing that. It stands firmly between intention and completion, reminding us — without apology — that we are not nearly as organized as we had hoped by now.
This is not a failure of Advent. It is, in fact, its preferred operating system.
Advent at midweek is not about dramatic gestures or heroic spirituality. It is about learning to wait while the world keeps interrupting us. It is about holding hope in one hand while answering emails with the other. It is about discovering that God is perfectly willing to arrive while we are still mid-sentence.
The scriptures around this time do not offer us a checklist so much as a promise: God is drawing near. Not once everything is polished. Not once the schedule settles down. But right here, in the middle of the week, in the middle of the mess, in the middle of our best-laid plans.
It is such that this blogger might observe that humanity, having been promised salvation, immediately responded by inventing spreadsheets and wondering why joy refuses to be itemized. And Advent gently chuckles at our efforts, reminding us that the coming of Christ is not something we manage — it is something we receive.
So this Wednesday, if you feel caught between anticipation and exhaustion, take comfort. You are not behind. You are simply mid-Advent. And God, it seems, does some of God’s best work precisely in the middle of things.
The miracle is still on its way.
And somehow, wonderfully, so is the grace to wait.
A Companion Prayer
Faithful God,
in the middle of this week
and the middle of this season,
meet us where we are.
Calm our anxious planning,
steady our distracted hearts,
and teach us to trust your timing.
As we wait for the coming of your Son,
help us to notice your presence
already among us—
in the unfinished,
the interrupted,
and the ordinary moments of our days.
We ask this through Jesus Christ,
our hope and our joy.
Amen.