Typically when I think of being prepared, I think about looking ahead and anticipating future problems. The motto of Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts immediately springs to mind – “Be Prepared.” When I was growing up and we would get ready to go camping as a family, my dad would make each of us a packing list. While I was packing my stuff, sometimes I would see an item on the list and wonder out loud, “Why do we need to bring this?” And my dad would respond, “If you get cold, you’ll be happy you had that.” Or, “Extra batteries will help us if the flashlight batteries we have die.” My dad is very good at being prepared, and he taught me the value of preparing for whatever might lie ahead. Being prepared means doing the work ahead so that you are ready when something comes your way.

But, looking ahead and working to alleviate potential problems is only one way to be prepared. I don’t know if any of you have a tendency to overthink things the way I do, but I know for myself I can get so caught up in anticipating future problems and putting conditions on what it means to be ready that I never actually get ready. When I think about having company over, I can find a million things that need doing first, and I can fill myself up with so much stress that I no longer enjoy the process of preparation. I can get so caught up in getting ready that I never invite anyone over. I don’t know if any of you feel that way, too. Being prepared isn’t just anticipating problems, cleaning the house, stockpiling resources, and crossing all of the items off of the to-do list; it is also about making space. 

In our passage for this morning, we hear these words from the prophet Isaiah: “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” The Gospel of Mark tells us this was “the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ the Son of God.” God sent a messenger to prepare the way for Jesus, and that preparation looked like going out in front. It looked like leveling the path, like crying out in the wilderness that this was the way. It looked like making space – making a path – for people to find their way to the good news of the gift of Jesus.

This morning as we talk about what it means to prepare for Jesus, we’re not going to look at all of the things that need doing. There will be no shaming about all of the stuff that we let get in the way as we follow after God, nor will there be a handy to-do list laying out what we can do to be better prepared. Instead, I want to ask a question: where are you finding sacred space?

Last March when school went entirely online for my kids, I found myself struggling to write, struggling to process my thoughts. It felt like my mind was one big jumble, and even though I wasn’t sure exactly what was stressing me out, I could feel the tension in my neck and shoulders. Everything just seemed so loud. And then it dawned on me: before I had my kids home with me all throughout the day, I had made a rhythm of getting up before they did and savoring the silence of the house before all of the bustle and activity began. With a new schedule, those silent moments were practically non-existent. Beginning my mornings with the space of silence had allowed me to make room for God in my mind and my heart. It prepared the way for the Lord, in some mystical way. 

For me, silence is a kind of sacred space. I don’t need a lot of it, but even having some each day helps open space in my heart to receive Jesus and all that he has for me. As Rumi once wrote, “Silence is the language of God, all else is poor translation.” Or, as it says in Psalm 62, “For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him.” Perhaps silence isn’t a place of sacred space for you, but I wonder what in your life is providing sacred space. Maybe you find space when you take a walk, or when you feel the chilly morning air hit your face when you step outside the door in the morning. Sacred space might be sitting with a cup of tea, or writing a note of encouragement to someone. Maybe you offer a prayer before your feet hit the floor in the morning, or maybe you whisper a prayer at night as you drift off to sleep.

Preparing our hearts to receive Jesus isn’t about anticipating problems, packing extra in our suitcases, or getting our houses cleaned up for company. It is about making space. As it says in the familiar Christmas carol: “Joy to the world, the Lord is come, Let earth receive her King. Let every heart prepare Him room, And Heaven and nature sing.”

Where are you finding sacred space in your life?

On this second Sunday of Advent, we light the candle of peace. When I was younger, I thought peace was when all the wars stopped. Peace was when you could make it a whole day without fighting with your brother, or when you could finish your math homework without crying at the dinner table. And, those things can give us a little glimpse of peace. But, more than that, peace is found in following God’s path. We discover the peace of Christ as we walk along the path that has already been prepared. It is not up to us to prepare it. That’s already been done. But as we walk along the path, we are making room inside our hearts to receive Christ and to share Christ everywhere we go.

In the section of Psalm 119 we read this morning, we heard these familiar words, “ Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” When we aren’t sure where to go, and we can’t see the next step to take, we turn to Scripture to light the path. As Henri Nouwen once wrote, “We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light.’” The words of the Bible – especially the psalms for me – help us to put words to the things we’re feeling. They help us look for God with us no matter what we are going through. When the way in front of us is cluttered or unclear, Scripture helps us find space and room once again. Peace is found in following God’s path, and when we can’t see the path, Scripture can help us find the way. 

Today, as we are another week closer to Christmas, we are being invited to cherish the sacred spaces in our lives. Take some time this week to identify what those sacred spaces are for you, and then make sure you give yourself the opportunity to experience the room they provide. It’s not selfish to make space. I used to think it might be because making space doesn’t feel “productive,” but by making space to experience God, we are allowing our rough places to be smoothed out, and our crooked places to be made straight. We will find healing and wholeness we didn’t even know we needed. In those holy moments of space, we will discover that God has been with us all along, we just had too many things in the way to notice.

To close, I want to share with you a poem by Mary Oliver. It is called “Making the House Ready for the Lord,” and it will serve both as our prayer and as preparation for our hearts as we gather around the Lord’s Table.

Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but

still nothing is as shining as it should be

for you. Under the sink, for example, is an

uproar of mice–it is the season of their

many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves

and through the walls the squirrels

have gnawed their ragged entrances–but it is the season

when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And

the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard

while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;

what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling

in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly

up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will

come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,

the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know

that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,

as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.