God Is With Us

Imagine a mine cave in…disaster. In the total darkness, deep in the earth, a survivor quietly lies in the dampness. No food. No water. No company. There is no one else. For three days the miner waits in a small pocket of air in the darkness. At times he thinks he hears faint sounds that may mean rescue. But he is never sure.

Above ground family members wait while rescue workers do their best afraid of what they may find. Hope drives them on. And then it happens: a beam of light shines through into the pocket of air. A voice speaks through a tiny opening. The workers find energy renewed.

All rejoice that one has been found alive.

This image is our story this season: a people in darkness who have seen a great light; a people waiting for the rescue that has come. We tell it as a reminder that no matter how threatening, how hopeless, or how dark the situation of our lives may become, no matter what caves in on us, or how we may feel alone, our rescue is near, and our hope is in a Saviour we can trust. We do not have to seek God. Our God seeks and searches for us.

Six hundred years earlier, Jeremiah the prophet, planted the seed of that hope, in hearts of a people he described as a remnant. We know what a remnant is: something left over, a scrap, a small piece often useless in itself and by itself. “Remnant” serves as an image of what we really are and the wonder of God's love and care for us.

That "remnant" left after the destruction of Jerusalem was not much. With no power of their own, with everything in ruins, they were "nothing" to anyone—except God. Yet the seeds of Hope planted by the prophet, bore fruit for those who waited in faith and they still bear fruit even today.

When we are nothing, reduced by sin or disaster, tasting the bitterness of our weakness, insignificance and powerlessness, we are still God's people. God seems to prefer the remnants of this world, it's scraps, and left overs, those who alone cannot amount to much. God seems to prefer seeking and searching for the lost, the last, and the least.

This is our hope today as we step into this season of Advent. We share the expectation of that miner knowing that help is always on the way and that it will come before it is too late. We shall be lifted up and lifted out, we shall see the light, and know the embrace of those who wait for us. God keeps the promise. Our rescue is right before us. Emmanuel: God is with us.