Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord (Luke 2:10,11, NKJV).
Walking toward the first tee, thoughts rush to find presence, to measure within the golfer some balance of wonder and expectation, of doubt and assurance. There is within every player the seed of the unknown, no matter the skill and experience.
A stroke well-played can only be the result between clarity and intention. If either suffers, if there be an interruption between mind and hand, what the golfer anticipates becomes unexpected.
The first tee brings all to the fore, to the moment at hand, what the golfer knows all too well or does not. And there waiting, resting quietly on the peg, is the ball, inanimate and ignorant in every respect until by force and direction it is met by the clubface.
The first tee speaks to what has come before, brought to the present, and revealed in the after. The first tee is an advent, a time to be still and quiet.
Advent, for Christians, is the season of anticipation. Ours is to remember and reflect on Christ’s birth, to call to mind what first-century Jews hoped for—a Savior, the Messiah.
Retrospect grants today’s faithful Christ’s life as it is known through Scripture. The hopeful in that day knew only God’s promise of a Savior, the anticipated, and expected.
What did they get, though not what they anticipated, but what God promised in the unexpected? Their hopes were fulfilled not with what they had in mind, but what God intended to reveal to them.
“There shall come forth a Rod from the stem of Jesse, and a Branch shall grow out of his roots. The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon Him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord” (Isaiah 11:1,2).
On a silent night, in the small town of Bethlehem, the stars shone, and the night stilled without a whisper of what was to come. If God before was as distant as the night’s stars, on this day He became immediate and present. And He came unnoticed, but by the few.
Sometimes this is hard to believe. Like those in Judea, we, too, wish for an earthly king. But in a real sense, we can believe it because we have seen it as the wise men and shepherds did.
I saw it one Christmas eve. There on the back pew, a mother and son listened to the Christmas sermon, and as they listened, she gently taught and explained the wonder of it all. Illuminated by the sight, I knew Christ was born again in the heart of that small child.
In our time, Christmas approaches as a pressured deadline, a list of have-to things to do. Who will take time to be still, to savor the joy in the meaning of a God who so loved, who in a stable but did place His hand into time and reach for every living soul? And that day turned to a season, the seasons to a year, and the years into a lifetime, a lifetime into a life.
Prayer: Still our hearts, O Lord. Open our ears to hear that silent, whispered night when you came to stay with us in time and eternity and heart.