We might wish it were otherwise of course. That healing would come soon, even now.
There are exceptions of course, but usually waiting seems to be an intrinsic part of the process leading towards healing. The human body generally takes its time. As does the mind, as does the spirit. Even in the care of the ever-creating and sustaining God of the Judaeo-Christian tradition.
And giving ourselves to that waiting time – abandoning ourselves to the grace and goodness of God – is a persistent choice. A day at a time, a night, a week, a month, a season…
Perhaps the waiting also comes with an invitation.
An invitation to look honestly and prayerfully at ourselves, as we wait. If we accept this invitation, the waiting may reveal the possibility of another, perhaps even more profound, healing.
A healing of the heart, involving the renewal of our love, and a realignment of focus, of attitude, of being.
And this healing may actually be more in our hands than we imagine.
I can’t fix my body right now. My mind is battered by news. And at this time of year my melancholy can make itself darkly known.
But I might just be able to take some first steps towards the healing of a relationship, towards the seeking or the granting of forgiveness, or towards the reshaping of a fault line in my own attitudes.
This may be the healing gift of the waiting time. And it will require reflection, silence, and honesty. It will also call for great love. And then for realignment.
Let’s go to the story of Zechariah’s waiting in chapter one of Luke’s gospel.
Zechariah has an astonishing encounter with the angel Gabriel, who tells him an impossible story. Zechariah’s incredulity takes him into a waiting silence, for nine months.
Why is silence forced upon (or perhaps gifted to) Zechariah? Ostensibly because he questions the angel. Perhaps because he needs to realign his whole being. Nine months waiting, nine months reflection, nine months realignment.
Then, finally, a glorious moment of heart-healing confirmed. And a song bursts from Zechariah – the song that we know as the Benedictus – a gift to him, to his wife Elizabeth, and to the world.
“…By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
In the darknesses of this Advent waiting time, what might be the healing of heart that is being gifted to each and all of us? What might be the renewal of love, the realignment of focus, of attitude or of being required of us?
Friends, in God’s grace, in this Advent waiting time,
may you find a renewal of your love, and any realignment that you need;
may the healing of your heart be a gift to others;
and in time, may you be granted all the healing that you seek, in body, mind and spirit;
and so may the dawn from on high break upon you, and upon all those you love.
Share your thoughts
In the darknesses of this Advent waiting time, what might be the healing of heart that is being gifted to each and all of us? What might be the renewal of love, the realignment of focus, of attitude or of being required of us?

Realigning my thoughts at this Advent time – on friends no longer on this earth, sadly missed. Thoughts of friends I thought were forever, but sadly not, as our lives grew apart, as the seasons changed. Realigning my thoughts to look to the future and friendships that are new and blossoming.
Thank you for sharing, Janet – peace to you this Advent, in the realignment.
Having just entered training for ordination I can really relate to the process of being realigned. I love your insight into Zechariah, in particular the gift of the Benedictus that came at the end of that period of faithful waiting.