When compassion gives the suff’ring consolation;
When expecting brings to birth hope that was lost;
When we choose love, not the hatred all around us:
We see God, here, by our side, walking our way.
- Jose Antonio Olivar, tr. Martin A. Seltz

Some of my favorite devotions are the ones where an expectation we have is flipped. For instance, in his choir devotional book Rehearsing the Soul, Terry York writes about rhetorical questions such as “If God can be for us, who can be against us?” and the answer we expect is: “no one.” But he takes that and gives us another possible answer that is equally true: “Me. I can.”

We can talk about expectation in that same way: we can talk about it bringing birth to hope as in the text above from one of our hymns on Sunday. But we can also talk about another side to expectation such as I presented in a devotion written for an Advent devotional last year:

"…[T]o open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness." (Isaiah 42:7, NRSV)
 
Keys can be used to open or lock doors. Doors that keep us from seeing what might be on the other side of them. Another word often associated with Advent comes to mind, expectation. Sometimes our own expectations can operate like a key. We can be so focused on what it is that we expect that we can lock that door when something doesn’t match that expectation and miss what God has in store on the other side.
 
A composition of mine from 2010, Faith Pill, for alto saxophone and electronic media illustrates this well. Take a moment and listen to this work at https://soundcloud.com/marshall-d-jones/faith-pill-11-19-13
 
Probably not what you expected. How did your expectation cause you to respond? Did you listen despite it being different from your expectation? Or did you turn it off as soon as it didn’t meet your expectations?
 
The work is centered around a recording of a London street preacher. How likely is it that the message God was speaking through him was missed because his appearance, smell, demeanor, etc were not the way someone expected to hear God? The chaos of the electronic parts is in stark contrast to the peace represented in the saxophone part. But how often does the saxophone’s tone not match what our expectation of the sound of peace might be? Think about the times you have experienced peace. Has it always come at the times and in the way you expected? Listen again, reflecting on the words of the preacher and how the tone of the saxophone changes over time.
 
How often this week have you missed that glimpse of God’s kingdom because it didn’t come the way you expected? Fear not, you are in good company. We see examples throughout the Gospels of those who did not recognize Jesus because he didn’t come in the way that they expected. They expected a king to lead them to victory over their earthly enemies, but instead Jesus came to go to the cross. The key to seeing our heavenly home may just be learning to look beyond our own expectations.
 
"Unexpected and mysterious is the gentle word of grace
Ever-loving and sustaining is the peace of God’s embrace."
—Jeanette Lindholm

Lord, help us to see beyond the doors we close with the keys of our expectations. Help us to hear your gentle word of grace even when it comes forth as thunder. Help us to recognize you in the places, people, songs, and art we may not necessarily like or expect to find you.

Marshall

"Rorate caeli" (Drop down, ye heavens) are the opening words of Isaiah 45.8 in the Vulgate bible, the late 4th century Latin translation of scripture. By the seventeenth century, this text was fused with other selected passages to form the Advent Prose and subsequently applied to liturgies and choral anthems for the Advent season. The Gregorian Chant melody ascribed to "Rorate caeli" is set beautifully in a tranquil setting by Jeanne Demessieux from her 12 Chorale Preludes on Gregorian Chant Themes, Op. 8 from 1950.

Two carols of the Advent season follow: my minimalist setting of the chorale "Savior of the Nations, Come" played by members of the Plymouth Ringers and a voluntary on the tune "Morning Song" by Richard Proulx, often paired with the text "The King Shall Come When Morning Dawns."

Next week's Vespers offers a Celtic Advent theme with bassist Peter Strening joining us..