Where Is Jesus? A Question at the Heart of Advent

“Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” 

It’s a simple question. It’s also a question on everyone’s minds in the gospels. But it hits differently when you remember who asks it in Matthew 11:3. This is a question from John the Baptist to Jesus. He doesn’t ask it in person because he is imprisoned by Herod Antipas—an imprisonment that will cost him his head.

How did Jesus’ cousin, who leapt in the womb in Jesus’ presence, who told him in Matt. 3:14 that it was he who should be baptized by Jesus, rather than being the baptizer, who saw the heavens open, the Holy Spirit descend, and heard the voice on the river that day… how did John the Baptist come to ask this question? 

Offer Them Jesus

Lights go up throughout Advent. (Don't worry, we'll get back to John.) In the United States, they’ll soon be everywhere—colored strings, white “icicles,” glowing inflatable Santa Clauses and Frosty the Snowmen, candles—lights will be absolutely everywhere. They’re cheerful, they’re lovely, and they remind us of the true light who is coming into the world on Christmas.

There’s a lesson (perhaps a sermon illustration?) in the bright lights of Advent. We put up lights as Christmas approaches because these holiday traditions emerged in the gloom of the Decembers of the Northern Hemisphere. Up here in the north, the darkness is deep, the air is bitterly cold, and the nights are so long. We need the lights because the darkness can be so oppressive. 

For many, though, the lights are just lights. The carols are just familiar songs. The cookies are just empty calories. For some, their moods will brighten in the darkness before turning to rueing their holiday overindulgence and trying to come up with “penitential” New Year’s resolutions. The darkness settles in again. The comfort they needed in the darkness was at best temporary.

Where is their comfort? 

That is what we are offering at Christmas in our churches. Our needs are too great to be met with a few weeks of cheery lights, music, and materialism. The comfort we offer is experiencing God himself in the person of Jesus. We proclaim that the creator of the heavens and the earth came down to be with us and live a human life in our strange and scary world. In the Incarnation, God is with us, and he remains with us.

He offers eternal life—not just someday when we die—but now. He offers us a deep and abiding peace that the world cannot offer—his own presence.

(Looking for Advent sermon and service resources? See our Advent Worship Guide.)

Where is Jesus?

And yet… there is John the Baptist in prison, asking if Jesus really is who he thought he was. We know his own disciples were concerned that Jesus’ disciples weren’t fasting like they were. Maybe he heard some of that "glutton and winebibber" talk and wondered what Jesus was up to. It would make sense from the perspective of an imprisoned man to wonder: "Where is Jesus? Why isn't he here? Why hasn't the liberator of our people started liberating them—and why couldn't he start with me? What is he up to, anyway?"

I know I'm taking a liberty here. We don't know precisely what led John's question. Something caused him doubt or concern, but we aren't given his precise concern.

But we do see concerns like these in Christians all the time. In the intensity of our suffering, we ask, “Where is Jesus?” And for some, this can cause us to doubt whether he is who we thought it was. 

And this is especially important in Advent and Christmas because, as those lights go up and the nights deepen, for many, Christians included, the loneliness, the grief, the depression, and the pain deepen too. Pastors know that many of those who sing joyful carols in Advent and Christmas are hiding a lot of hurt that the season makes worse.

Does this negate the idea that knowing Jesus is the path to peace? Does this mean that he doesn’t offer comfort?

Too often, those who are suffering are told: it's your sin or your lack of faith that is causing you to suffer. That response is a little too close to the counsel of Job's friends. Don't get me wrong, sin can be the cause of our suffering and alienation from God.

But the people of God suffer and feel far from God at times and it seems like it is not just about sin. Look at Job or the Psalms, there's a lot of distress to go around. Or more recently, we have Mother Teresa's struggles with feeling far from God. There are "dark nights of the soul" even for faithful Christians.

Perhaps our situation is illuminated by returning to John's case. If we make the pretty safe assumption that John loved Jesus and Jesus loved John, it is that love—and trust—that makes it even harder when John doesn't understand what he is seeing.

The suffering faithful Christian loves God and believes that God loves them. They trust God. And yet, they suffer. That's hard. Why doesn't God deliver them? They may trust that somehow it is for their benefit. But they are still suffering.

And even if God is doing something unimaginably good behind the scenes (as Jesus was in the case of John), the suffering faithful still may ask, "Where is Jesus?"

It's not the wrong question. It is love that causes them to ask it.

If I had the whole answer to that question for the suffering Christian, I would share it. I don’t think there is an easy answer.

But if we take that as a request for Jesus' presence, we aren't helpless. We can offer presence: prayer, community, worship, sacraments, service, and sometimes just listening. In a way, you might say that what we are pointing to is the church actually being the body of Christ, offering his presence through the Spirit that bonds us together.

 (Interested in hosting a Blue Christmas / Longest Night service for those struggling in the lead up to Christmas? See our free service.)

Locating Jesus

I hope that in your sermons and services through Advent, you’ll help your congregations locate the One who we are waiting for in this season. The world outside is literally and spiritually dark. We offer that one true light that will truly light the darkness, the one who will offer the real comfort we are looking for. 

And at the same time, I hope that you will be sensitive to those who for whom this season probes wounds, whether fresh or not-as-healed-as-they-thought, looking for the opportunity to help them find the presence of the Jesus they believe in, but cannot feel close at hand.