Introduction:
Shaped around this year’s four Sunday Advent readings, and reflections from A Field at Anothoth by Ross Millar, this poem listens to Isaiah’s foresight and reflects from our present season of waiting. I offer it as a quiet invitation to personal Advent contemplation, and to linger with the meaning held in the word “Advent.”
The seer, Isaiah, spoke of the
Lord’s house being built,
above the hills; all nations streaming to it.
How is that —
seven centuries
before the coming of Jesus?
Israel is alerted to the Advent of the incarnation,
God dwelling with man.
As the goldsmith mixes the old with the new,
there is a combination, a mixing of both,
through the process of heat transfer.
So it is with Advent —
a joining of Jacob’s house
with the Lord’s house.
The two shall become one.
The seer, Isaiah, says
no hurt or destruction on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord,
as waters cover the sea.
Is this possible?
Advent — an advanced announcement of a coming
when fear will not rule,
when what is feared will be no more.
Swords become ploughshares,
spears pruning hooks;
nations will not learn war against each other.
So will Advent be —
with righteousness he will judge the poor,
making fair decisions for all.
The wolf and lamb shall lie together.
The seer, Isaiah, sees a day coming
when the wilderness will be glad,
rejoicing in blossom, abundance of flowers,
and singing of joy.
So, unknown coming of great joy
will be the fruit of our journeying,
where the faint of heart are refreshed
and feeble knees made strong.
Eyes of the blind see,
blocked ears are opened.
The ransomed of the Lord shall return.
So it is with Advent —
the highway will be called the Holy Way.
Sorrow and sighing will flee away.
The seer, Isaiah, heralds an announcement:
“The Lord himself will give us a sign —
a virgin shall birth a son named God with Us.”
Advent — a coming into being.
In the seer’s age, the Bethlehem manger,
travellers from the east bearing gifts,
would have been unknown.
Yet now this is our nativity story:
Mary and Joseph with baby Jesus,
surrounded by shepherds,
and angels singing glory to the Lord.
Nothing we can contribute,
all our achievements set aside.
We bring quiet, awed wonder
and our longing hearts.
© stephen c douglas, as kiwi poet; December 24th, 2025