Dear friends, I’m writing this reflection on the evening of the First Sunday of Advent. Thanksgiving has come and gone, and now we’ve flipped our liturgical calendars to a new year. Happy New Year!

In the church, the beginning of the year always starts at the end with some apocalyptic images from Scripture that remind us of the promised day when Christ will come again, as we recite in the Apostles’ Creed, “to judge the living and the dead.” The first Sunday of Advent, though, also reminds us that Christ comes in smaller ways every day—in the time between the manger and the end of the age. As Martin Luther writes in his explanation to the second petition of the Lord’s Prayer, “God’s kingdom comes on its own without our prayer, but we ask in this prayer that it may also come to us.” It happens, Luther continues, through the Holy Spirit. The kingdom of God, ushered in by Jesus, is constantly coming to us.

This year, I’ve been reflecting on the tension between the expected nature of Christ’s coming (as we sing in the Advent hymn, Come Thou Long Expected Jesus) and the unexpected nature of the timing (as we read in Matthew’s gospel: “The Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect”). If the coming is expected, but the timing is not, then we should be looking for Christ to come all the time. And if we’re constantly looking for Christ, then we might just find him in, perhaps, the most unexpected of places. Like a manger. Or a cross.

Each year when Advent rolls around, the events of the day make it seem like the end of the age is, indeed, coming near. As if they are the signs referenced in Mark’s gospel: wars and rumors of wars, earthquakes, famines. But God is coming near as well. I often wonder if we anticipate God’s coming reign with as much certainty as all of the other signs. My hope is that we do.

May the expected God surprise you in surprising and unexpected ways this season and bring you hope.