Day 8 – We know what it is to wait

As a Wakka Wakka woman, an Aboriginal woman from the lands now called Australia, a person of the world’s oldest, living, continuing cultures, I know what it is to wait.   

For thousands of years, across over 2,000 generations, our people waited for the seasons – the wattle flower to bloom for the time of fishing of the eel in abundance, the waratah flower to bloom for the time of the wombat babies to be born, the space between the stars with the Dark Emu for the time of the emus to lay their eggs.   

We know what it is to wait.  

As Aboriginal Christian Leader, Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann, says, “We cannot hurry the river.” 

We know what it is to wait.  

We know what it is to wait in the face of colonisation that brought in an instant disruption, destruction, and death.  

We know what it is to wait through over 250 years of injustice and inequality.  

We know what it is to wait.  

As an Aboriginal person, we have a cultural practice of Deep Listening.  Deep Listening is with your whole being.  Deep Listening requires waiting.  Waiting means listening deeply: to the ancient Songlines of my ancestors, to the land that carries both pain and promise, and to the heartbeat of God’s reconciling love. 

Personally I love sunrise.  I like to get up at first light, as the darkness is interrupted with the mixture of those first glows of deep orange and the light pinky purple in the sky, a beautiful gift, lighting the way before dawn.  And then I sit.  And I wait.  I’m wait with eager anticipation for what artwork God will paint on the canvas of the new day.   

In Advent, we wait — not merely for a historical event, but for a living and renewing presence.  

We wait because there is hurt. There is the deep wound of injustice, of stories untold, of truth denied. But waiting is not surrender. It is hopeful lament. It is prayerful insistence that God will heal — not just individuals but communities, not just bodies but nations, and not just now but for generations to come. 

And while we wait, we do not sit idle. We walk in friendship. We carry each other’s pain. We speak truth to misinformation and disinformation. We take action for justice.  We show love.

For the same Jesus whose birth we await is the one who comes to mend what is broken. Jesus the great Un-Settler is the great healer, comforter, and reconciler –not a promise in some distant future — but for here and now.  Creator God is the master weaver who takes ancient threads, new threads, and even broken threads, and weaves all together – all peoples and all creation.  

So let us wait together, with courage. Let us open our hands in prayer. Let us tend the wounds of the lands, waters, and peoples with action. Let us prepare our hearts for a new day — with truth, justice, love and hope.  And, in our communal waiting, may healing flow, like the waters of the mighty river.  

Prayer

An Aboriginal Prayer for Truth and Hope

May the God of all wonder who set the stars in the sky,  

bless you with relentless unsettledness –  

that drives you to seek truth.  

May the God of all justice who gave motion to the rivers,  

bless you with righteous anger –  

that drives you to seek freedom for all.  

May the God of all love who placed laughter in the kookaburra,  

bless you with the friendship –  

that looks like the love where one lays down their life for another.  

May the God of all comfort who determined the height of the mountains,  

bless you with tears from shared pain and mourning –  

that shows you hope.  

Now with wonder, righteous anger, sacrifice, and lament –  

Go in truth, justice, love, and hope.  

Amen. 

Share your thoughts

Is there a longed for justice that you are waiting for most, this Advent?

Share any other reflections inspired by Brooke’s reflection, below.