Advent begins, says Marti Steussy, amidst turbulent hopes. Like Isaiah, we have all known big promises and big disappointments. The psalmist agrees. Jesus predicts more of the same – big promises, big disappointments. Paul starts his first letter to the church at Corinth with words of promise, but most of the rest of the letter is filled with words of disappointment. Those of us who live and love unconventionally know what it is like to have turbulent hopes. When we come out, we may be at once overjoyed and anxious as we accept that we are not what others expected us to be, not even what we ourselves once expected us to be. Now what? How are we going to get through the daily partial victories and defeats that come from living against the grain? And where is God in all of this?

	Think about when you came out to someone, or when someone came out to you. Were there pleasant surprises? Unpleasant ones? Did God seem close or absent?

Isaiah 64:1-9 oscillates between extreme images, says Marti: God as earthquake; God as loving parent or careful artisan; God simply absent; the isolation of no one calling your name; and the consideration that we are all God’s people. Helene Russell, Holly Hearon and Charles Allen are equally struck by Isaiah’s final admonition in verse 9: “Now consider, we are all your people.” For Charles and Holly, the emphasis falls on “all”; for Helene it falls on “your.” Charles hears an echo of Moses lecturing God in Exodus 32:11: “your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt.” It seems that both Isaiah and Moses have the nerve to remind God of a relationship God ought to know about already. How can we be called unclean if we are God’s handiwork?

	Think of times when promising events have been followed by setbacks. Same-sex marriages are recognized in some states, but denied by constitutional amendments in others. Can you identify with Isaiah’s longing (“O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,” v. 64:1)?

Marti and Holly both notice how the psalmist in Psalm 80 seems to assume, like the Deuteronomist, that misfortunes result directly from God’s anger. If that is how we feel, says Marti, then that is from where we need to pray. But we might also consider that God’s connection to what happens on earth is more complex. At a deeper level, the psalmist recognizes that things are not as they should be but refuses to stop hoping that God intends an ultimate good.

Charles notes that Paul’s first words are amazingly complimentary in 1 Corinthians 1:3-9. Who would ever guess that Paul was about to launch a lengthy critique? He seems confident that the Corinthian church will turn out well, even though they are a long way from that goal right now. Holly notes that the very strengths Paul mentions here — enriched speech, knowledge, and other spiritual gifts — are the liabilities that Paul goes on to criticize when they inhibit genuine community. Those of us who live and love unconventionally are often stereotyped as being especially gifted and creative. This can be a strength if we and those who label us turn our differences into connections, but we and they can also use our differences to create barriers.

	Have you ever seen yourself as gifted in ways that those around you may not understand? Have others seen you that way? When has this forged deeper connections, and when has it thwarted connections?

Mark 13:24-37 returns us to Isaiah’s theme of longing for God to tear open the heavens and come down. Jesus’ words seem to imply that turbulence will increase until God suddenly intervenes and settles everything. Both Jesus and his audience seem to assume that God’s decisive intervention cannot be far off — less than a generation away (verse 30). But no such intervention ever happens and we are left witha disclaimer, “no one knows” (verse 32). But if no one really knows what’s about to happen, why are we encouraged to read God’s intervention as “the signs of the times”? Charles observes that we have a double-edged message: “We’re told to keep alert because something momentous is about to happen, and because we do not really know what it will be.” Marti notes, “Jesus has to take his own advice here. He does not know exactly what will happen. But he trusts that it will be something momentous.” Holly points out, “Deep down, our longing for some decisive intervention is more complicated than it looks. We dream of having all our problems solved so that we can face them now without giving up.”

Following the recent elections and voting in the U.S., those who preach these texts on this particular first Sunday in Advent may well be wondering just what got decided at that election. Will we know better how to face the drastic changes in our economy? Will our newly-elected politicians be able to enact any of the programs promised? What are we to do about the defeat of efforts for marriage equality to flourish? We still face big promises and big disappointments.

Following the recent elections and voting in the U.S., those who preach these texts on this particular first Sunday in Advent may well be wondering just what got decided at that election. Will we know better how to face the drastic changes in our economy? Will our newly-elected politicians be able to enact any of the programs promised? What are we to do about the defeat of efforts for marriage equality to flourish? We still face big promises and big disappointments.

	How do you read the signs of the times? Do you see things getting better for those whom the church has excluded? Do you see more conflict emerging? What sustains your hope?