I hate to wait. But yet again, the Church, in its wisdom, provides a whole season of waiting, just for me.
The Advent red light.
And not only are we waiting, but Jesus is clear that no one knows , not even Jesus, about how long the wait will be until the Son of Man returns with great power and glory and sets things right at last and turns a creation that had grown old into a new creation, one in which God dwells here with us.
No more crying there, no more sighing there, goes the old spiritual—we are going to see the King, Alleluia, alleluia, we are going to see the King.
“And all will be well, and all manner of things will be well,” as Julian of Norwich, who was a saint, of course, said.
But who knows when?
Alleluia indeed.