WRITTEN BY: JOY FLORES

I have never longed for the Christmas season like I have this year.

The last few months have been nothing short of gut-wrenching, as we have borne witness to the groans of creation. In this digital era, we are bombarded 24/7 by horrors that our bodies were not meant to hold. Yet, the days wage on, and it is with hopeful expectation we arrive at the doorstep of Advent.

In our minds, we picture Mary and Joseph huddled beside a manger during the first Advent. Our cerebral eye paints a picture of shepherds tending their flocks alongside the magi, who have traveled from afar. We see the light of that brightly shining star, perfectly placed in the middle of a dark and empty sky. However, this commercialized version of Advent has lifted the story out of its original context. Those who experienced the first Advent had to travel through profound darkness in order to reach the hope promised in the divine light of this majestic, shining star.

In our western world, we have defined Advent as an expectant season of waiting. We approach the season with joyful anticipation as we prepare for the arrival of the Messiah. And this perspective is informed by privilege—because we stand on the other side of history, already knowing how the story unfolds.

But if we take a pause and approach the story through its original cultural and socioeconomic context, we start to hear the groans of childbirth. Examining the birth of Jesus through the Gospel of Luke, we gain a deeper understanding of what it meant to live in the turmoil of Galilee. Our manger scenes do not include the occupation of Rome and the rulership of Caesar. But when we comprehend the historical context, we see Mary's strength and determination in a whole new light.

Furthermore, in the Gospel of Matthew, we catch a glimpse of life through Joseph's eyes, including the ruthlessness of Herod's rule and how the implications of empire come to suffocate the lineage of David. Many of us have never taken into consideration what life would have felt like in Nazareth, Bethlehem, or other nearby villages. With financial burdens, food insecurity, crushing debt, eviction, and the like, Joseph might have known the financial stress of trying to provide safety for his pregnant fiancé. Mary could have felt the paralyzing fear of potentially being stoned due to claims of infidelity. When we understand the dynamics of living under occupation, the first family becomes more relatable to us or our neighbors who share these current struggles.

Longing for Liberation

Considering the fact that Israel was controlled by the Roman Empire at the time of Jesus’ birth, it makes sense that the prevailing expectation was for the Messiah to emerge as a political authority. Imagine waiting for the chosen one, the Messiah, to come and save your people from foreign oppression. You might picture a giant army marching in cadence, coming to take back what rightfully belongs to your people. Multiple prophecies described the Messiah as a king who would lead and rule over Israel after liberating them and bringing forth their independence.

In this first week of Advent, we light the candle of Hope. But this candle is also known as the Prophets’ Candle—a candle to remember the prophets of old who, even in times of great darkness, clung to hope and foretold the promise of a coming savior. Prophets like our beloved Isaiah, who writes, "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice (Mishpat) and righteousness (Tzedakah) from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this” (Isaiah 9:6-7, NIV).

This is the liberating energy I’m here for.

A Gritty, Bruised Hope

There are over 92 times in the Old Testament where these two Hebrew words, Mishpat and Tzedakah, are paired together. In Psalm 89, for instance, we see that mishpat and tzedakah are the foundation of God’s throne. The natural question follows: what is it, exactly, that constitutes the foundational groundwork for the community of God’s people?

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says that both mishpat and tzedakah are forms of justice, but are very different in their logic. Mishpat is retributive justice, referring to the rule of law accepted by society and binding for all members. He says justice is the most basic institution of a free society. But by itself, mishpat, or justice, does not create a society in which all can flourish. Tzedakah, or righteousness, is also needed. This is distributive justice. Tzedakah goes beyond physical needs to psychological needs as well. Poverty humiliates, and a good society does not allow for humiliation. Its aim is to restore dignity and independence, not just meeting needs.

In our societies today, we often witness and experience a lot of unjust application of the rule of law. We apply it to some, but not to all—because of their wealth, their privilege, their position, or the color of their skin. Our current reality will require the right hand of God to intervene and to make right all of the things we are getting wrong. And so, we must carry an audacious hope deep inside of us as we patiently wait for his kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven. We want to see this true foundation of God’s throne lived out in our own lives.

Can you imagine a world where righteousness (tzedakah) is required? It would mean that, through our love for God and for one another, we would share dignity and desire independence for every person. It would mean living with an abundance mindset that says there is always more than enough and understanding that righteousness isn’t simply conducting yourself with purity, but a challenge to generously share our wealth, power, or privilege.

If this was the coming Kingdom the Messiah was ushering in, it explains why King Herod was concerned when the three wise men showed up looking for the newborn king. The current socioeconomic conditions in the region were a stark contrast to the foundational principles of this coming Kingdom. King Herod controlled his empire through a scarcity mindset, wherein power was coveted, and the poor were pushed to the margins. The imminent birth of Jesus posed a direct challenge to Herod’s established order, threatening the very foundations of his rule.

Lest we forget, the nation of Israel was made up of slaves who gained their freedom after 400 years of captivity. They understood what it meant to live in community with one another and tend to each other's needs. They had no other choice but to trust their God and care for one another. Holding onto the hope of one day experiencing freedom after being held captive for 400 years feels totally overwhelming. Still, they persisted and did not waiver; they held onto promises and prophecies like the words of Isaiah 9. Jesus was born into this world, not to tear down the empire, but to subversively rearrange systems that suffocate and replace them with a kingdom that brings forth life.

We still hold onto this gritty, bruised hope, longing to see our world restored and repaired, where mishpat and tzedakah guide our convictions and become the foundations of our communities. In the face of adversity and pain, we can grab ahold of this promise. And we can cling to ‘tikvah’, the Hebrew concept of ‘hope’, which acts as a cord that tethers us to God’s throne when we don’t have the capacity to see a different type of future.

Groaning for Glory

To live on this planet in a post-Genesis 3 world is to daily face a laundry list of lamentable realities. Scott Hubbard simplifies it this way, “The story of Scripture is a story of glory. God crowned us with glory in creation (Psalm 8:5). We lost that glory in the fall (Romans 1:23; 3:23). Christ recovered our glory in the gospel (2 Corinthians 3:18; 4:6). And now we hope in “the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18).”

Right here, in the words of Romans 8:18, Paul coins a groan that is hope-shaped. In the same way that baptism is an outward expression of an inward transformation, groans can be an outward lament expressing our internal state of anguish. And groaning can also take on the form of anticipation, like we see in Romans 8:18.

Waiting with patience for redemption, restoration, and glory is a heart posture of faith. It’s a groaning faith; not because we question Jesus’ promises or his faithfulness—scripture is flooded with proof that our God is a promise keeper, afterall. Rather, it’s a faith that groans because we look forward to his promises and prophecies being fulfilled over our neighborhoods, churches, and children.

The groans of creation are not empty of hope. We lament because the pain of our fractured world surrounds us. But we remain steadfast. Because of the covenant made by our God, we hold both grief and faith.

We grieve because we know things are not as they should be. Yet our groans are hopeful because we know that one day, things will be as they should. When the Bible references hope, it is not referring to toxic positivity, it is a certainty and a confident expectation about the future. This is the courageous hope we want to bring to an audacious advent.

This hope was embodied in a baby—the Messiah, sent by God to “bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners" (Isaiah 61:1).

As we enter into this first week of advent we have the opportunity to reimagine hope through the eyes of restorative justice. We get to carry around this type of audacious hope that generously lifts our neighbors out of shame and restores them back to honor. We are given fresh eyes to identify the needs of others and be the hands and feet of Jesus to a groaning world.

About the Author

Taking a holistic nontoxic approach to addressing systems of oppression, **Joy Flores** has a deep passion to see these forms of modern-day slavery reversed. With over 22 years of ministry experience and currently serves as Vice President of Ministries at Nashville Rescue Mission, Joy has cultivated her desire to see every man, women, and child not only treated with respect and dignity, but also to tangibly reflect the love of Jesus Christ to a world filled with so much brokenness and pain. She has been married to Augie, the most hardworking dedicated man on planet earth, for the past 17 years, and together they have 4 energetic kids. Joy loves Steelers Football, strong coffee, storytelling, laughing, deep friendships, and all things competitive.

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