This Advent, What Are You Waiting For?

The Story Behind an Advent Song

Dec 24, 2022

This Advent, What are You Waiting For?

I want to share the story behind a song, “Jesus Came.” I composed the words and music to “Jesus Came” at Kirk O’ the Isles Presbyterian Church in Whitefield Chapel on a Sunday morning in December late 1990s at Whitefield Chapel, on the historic grounds of the Bethesda Home for Boys. The chapel is near the entrance to Skidaway Island, near Savannah, Georgia. The chapel is named after the acclaimed Anglican evangelist, Reverend George Whitefield (1714-1770), who preached there in 1738, and 1740 and founded the Bethesda Orphanage and the meeting house. With Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), Whitefield is undoubtedly the essential figure in the spiritual revival recalled as the First Great Awakening. That revival preceded the American Revolution and infused an indisputable spiritual dimension to the American Colonists and Founders. Bethesda Orphanage was but one of Whitefield’s many Gospel endeavors (e.g., the revival meeting houses that became the University of Pennsylvania, where his statue graced the Dormitory Quadrangle until its regrettable, fashionable removal in 2020). The present structure at the Bethesda Home, Whitefield Chapel, was dedicated in March 1840. The chapel sits on the fabric of the original meeting house from 1740.

It was Advent. We were founding a new church. My most urgent concern was to lay a foundation of God, not man, of spirit, not flesh, and with a vision of glory, not temporal gain. The greatest hindrance to such a goal is the preacher. Thus, I was praying for the Savior who came in history, who will return in His resurrected body, to come again into our humble gathering in the presence of the Holy Spirit. And I was praying He might come to me and revive me to proclaim the unsearchable riches of Christ.

That Sunday’s affirmation of faith in worship spoke to the profound simplicity of the truth of God with us: “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” This acclamation was in my mind as I arrived early that Lord’s Day at the chapel where I was to conduct worship and preach. However, at that early hour on the Lord’s Day, I was alone as I walked from the narthex toward the chancel, the sound of my steps richocheting around the chapel interior. The simple design of the sanctuary belies the intentional, intricate engineering using surface materials, edges, angles, and space to create a veritable 18th-century organic sound system. The Christmas green was hung: simple but elegant pine wreaths on either side of the chancel. I sat at the magnificent grand piano and looked at the sunlit windows, squinting. Brilliant but dappled light, the color of buttercream, shown through the wide-open eyes of the chapel. I looked in awe at the setting: beyond the sun’s warm epiphany lay ancient oak adorned with Spanish moss, all framed by shades of green. In a blink of an eye, I was back, present, and quite aware of my duties. In one hour, I would call the people to worship. “We are in Advent,” I thought, and I prayed. “But will You come and be here with us? Will You transform this space, this room, into the sanctuary of the living God?” My questions were not inquiries. They were pleas.

I am thinking of that time as I read Scripture on this final Friday in Advent. The Epistle for today’s reading in the Book of Common Prayer (2019) reflects the ongoing renewal that the season of Advent intends:

“If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17).

In between my prayers and my awareness of the unique moment that would never be mine again, I waited, which is what we do in Advent. We wait in faith for glory to fill our lives and transform the humbug out of this old world. Waiting is not necessarily wasted time. Waiting can be a holy time, like Anna the Prophetess and Simeon, the devout Jew at the temple. As I sought to experience the moment, I began to hear words to a prayer I was breathing, set to the faint sound of musical notes. The harmonious phrases were not staccato notes like loud pitter-patter raindrops but more like music that flowed and gurgled, moving in a narrow stream over well-worn pebbles. Then, as I transposed the music from the sound in my mind to the keys on the piano, I remembered: As Christ came to earth, He still appears in the lives of all who call upon His name. I scribbled the lyrics that came to me on the back of the bulletin. I played the hymn for the first time and then put it away for a decade. Yet, for that early Sunday morning in Advent, it was my Nunc Dimittis for that moment, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation . . .” (Luke 2:29-30 BCP 1662).

While serving as a seminary chancellor-president, I recorded the song “Jesus Came” as part of a Christmas album of original pieces, a project to help future pastors. Credit and gratitude are due to gifted accompanist Cindy Gibbs and the remarkable producer Steve Babb. They helped me bring my Advent experience at Whitefield Chapel to something tangible that could be shared with others. The sheet music became available for those who would like to use the piece for themselves or in church. We are thankful that a simple Advent song has now been sung in North America, Britain, several European nations, and Indonesian and Australian congregations. Occasionally, someone writes and tells me what the song means to them. Such a note is always good news from a far country. But for me, I will never forget that Jesus came to a filthy sinner saved by grace and called to preach the Gospel he once blasphemed. I will remember that He comes in our times of need, especially when we think we are doing well. He still comes to every person who awaits His appearance and calls on His name, even preachers.

So, this Advent, what are you waiting for?

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