Making Space for the Song of the Angels
Our grandson plays baseball. I love watching his coaches teach these young players about being “baseball ready.” By this, the coaches mean to play with anticipation. Even the kids getting stuck in right field (where I usually played because I would do the least damage there) were taught that with every pitch, they should bend their knees slightly, they should place their weight on the balls of their feet, leaning slightly forward, always anticipating what their next move will be if the ball is hit to them.
I invite you to live these next four weeks “Advent Ready.” When I say that we should live “Advent Ready,” I mean that we are invited, even urged, to live with expectation, standing on the balls of our feet, always looking for the ways that God will appear next in our lives. I invite you to begin Advent by making one change in your life this morning. I invite you, in the words of the Rev. Dr. Howard Thurman, to “make space for the song of angels.”
What would it mean for you to make space in your life for the singing of angels this year? Our lives have been so disrupted—is there a way to redeem 2020 by opening ourselves up to the presence of God—a presence that is already with us, but we get too busy to notice? Is there something in your life that is missing, that must be added—a spiritual discipline or practice, perhaps? Or is this a year for you to do addition by subtraction, filtering out of your lives the unessential so that you can take time for the essential?
Perhaps this is a time, right now, that you can listen for the Eternal Presence of God in your heart, inviting you to a new kind of Advent, making room for God. Perhaps this is the time—right now—for you to listen for the singing of angels. A song of love, a song of hope, a song reminding you once again of who you really are—you are a child of God. I invite you to take a minute—right now—to hear the angels sing.
 Howard Thurman, Deep Is the Hunger: Meditations for Apostles of Sensitiveness (Richmond, Indiana: Friends United Press, 1951), 91.