This morning’s church service began with words that we would never associate normally with Advent: the beautiful closing words of Zephaniah 3, with their image of a God who rejoices over us with singing. But they only seem out of place in Advent if we see the end point of Advent to be Christmas. If we see Advent leading instead to Jesus’ return, what better words could we say together? The Welsh poet Ann Griffiths captured this picture of Advent perfectly in her poem that was translated by Rowan Williams as “I Saw Him Standing”:
I first discovered Griffiths’ poetry 11 years ago, and wrote an essay here on her work, three weeks from turning 29, the age at which Griffiths died. I am eleven years older now, married with three children, and I still need to be brought back to the passionate delight that Griffiths had in Jesus. And I still long, like her, to wake up and see Him face to face.
Come, Lord Jesus.
The Consolations of Writing 