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"Don’t Waste the Waiting”

November 30, 2025

Rev. Rebecca DePoe

The Presbyterian Church of Coraopolis

Our Scripture reading for this morning comes from the gospel of Matthew, Chapter 24, beginning in verse 36. Hear now the word of God: Matthew 24:36-44 (NRSV)

36 “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven nor the Son, but only the Father.

37 For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man.

38 For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark,

39 and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so, too, will be the coming of the Son of Man.

40 Then two will be in the field; one will be taken, and one will be left.

41 Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken, and one will be left.

42 Keep awake, therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.

43 But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into.

44 Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

This is the word of the Lord.

Thanks be to God.

Last week I had a week off from classes, so I decided to pull On the Road by Jack Keroac off the shelf and re-read it. I first read it right after college. Back when life felt-wide open and everything seemed urgent. I remembered loving it, so I thought I’d revisit it. But as I started rereading, I realized something surprising. While the book hadn’t changed, I had. The things that once thrilled me didn’t land the same way. The restless wandering that used to feel like freedom now felt… a little hollow.

Because somewhere along the way, I learned something I didn’t know at twenty-two: that chaos isn’t freedom. Now I know that freedom built on purpose, hope, and presence is far better. Somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to live “on the road” and I started wanting to live a life of purpose.

That’s why this book feels different now. I see the world differently. I see myself differently. I’ve had enough life experiences- enough joy, enough heartbreak, enough ministry, enough miles- to know that the most meaningful transformations often happen in the staying, not in the running. Not in the frantic movement, but in the waiting.

And that, I think, is what Advent tries to tell us: waiting isn’t wasted time. It’s the quiet space where God prepares us for what comes next. The space where something in us shifts, stretches, and awakens long before we can see the full picture.

Which is exactly what Jesus is getting at in Matthew 24. Because his words are not about predicting the future. They’re about how we live right now- how not to waste the waiting. How to stay awake to God’s presence in the ordinary hours, the uncertain season, the moments when nothing seems to be happening, but everything is quietly being prepared.

When Jesus says, “No one knows the day or the hour,” he is not trying to make us anxious. He’s doing the opposite. He is relieving us of the burden of certainty- the pressure to have life figured out, the pressure to map out the future, the pressure to be perfectly prepared for every possible scenario.

The disciples desperately want a timeline- they want control. And Jesus lovingly refuses to give them one. Not because he’s withholding something, but because a life of faith was never meant to be built on prediction. A life of faith is built on presence.

So instead of giving them a date, Jesus gives them a way of being: stay awake. Stay awake to what God is doing in you. Stay awake to what God is doing around you. Stay awake to the small signs of God’s nearness that can be so easy to overlook.

Because when you stop obsessing over the future, you start paying attention to the present. And the present is where God always shows up first. This is the beginning of Advent wisdom: that the point isn’t knowing when Christ will come- the point is living like Christ is already near.

After Jesus tells the disciples that no one knows the timing, he gives them examples:

People eating and drinking.

People going to work in the field.

Two women grinding grain together- the ancient equivalent of doing meal prep.

Jesus is telling us something important here: God’s arrival doesn’t interrupt real life- it happens right in the middle of it.

While we imagine God showing up with trumpets and fanfare, Jesus says:

Look for God in the field.

Look for God at the table.

Look for God in your work.

Look for God in your conversations, your commutes, your routines.

In other words, don’t assume that waiting means nothing is happening. Most of the time, God meets us in places so normal we almost miss them.

I think that’s part of why On the Road feels so different to me now. In my 20s, I though meaning lived in the big moments- the road trips, the dramatic changes, the spontaneous decisions. Like Kerouac’s characters, I thought life happened “out there,” somewhere bigger, brighter, and wilder.

But somewhere along the line I learned something quieter and truer: most of the holy moments in life don’t happen on the road. They show up in the ordinary. In the routines. In the conversations you have while making dinner. In the person you become while doing the same faithful thing day after day.

Which is exactly what Jesus is talking about in Matthew 24. When he describes people eating and drinking, working in the field, grinding grain- he’s not warning us. He’s locating us. This is where God shows up. Right here. Right in the middle of the life you already have.

That is why he tells us to keep awake: because it is dangerously easy to live an entire life and miss the God who is moving in the middle of it.

When Jesus uses the image of a thief in the night, he is not describing a God who breaks in to frighten us. He is describing a God who slips into our lives quietly- the way a moment of clarity does, the way forgiveness does, the way healing sometimes begins before we even realize we need it.

Think about it: thieves don’t announce their arrival. They don’t show up at 2pm after they sent around a Google calendar invite. They enter quietly, unnoticed, in the dark.

Jesus takes that image and flips it to say God’s presence works like a thief in the night- slipping into the parts of our lives where we have given up expecting anything at all.

Which means the call to “keep awake” is an encouragement to stay open to surprise. To trusting that God comes with grace. Breaking into the rooms we thought were locked.

So. What does staying awake look like in real life?

I think it looks like attention.

It looks like refusing to sleepwalk through your own life.

It looks like noticing the small mercies that show up on ordinary Tuesdays-

The text from a friend at just the right moment,

The courage you didn’t have yesterday,

The forgiveness you thought was impossible

The unexpected softness in your own heart.

Staying awake looks like tending to the places in you where God might be quietly stirring. It looks like asking “What is God growing in me right now that I can’t fully see yet?” It looks like trusting that the in-between seasons are not detours- they are formation.

And staying awake looks like practicing hope. Not optimism- hope. Optimism says “things will get better” Hope says “God is already here” Right now. In the dark. In the waiting. In the places that feel unfinished or unresolved.

Keeping awake means paying attention to God’s nearness so we don’t waste the waiting with worry, fear, or distraction. It means living as though grace could show up at any moment- because it can, and it does.

So as we enter this season of Advent, we begin where Jesus begins: not with predictions, not with fear, not with a timeline, but with an invitation: Don’t waste the waiting.

Don’t rush past it. Don’t sleepwalk through it. Don’t assume nothing is happening simply because things look ordinary on the surface.

Because the truth is- most of the time, God comes quietly. In unexpected hours, in unexpected ways, through unexpected openings in our own hearts.

So in the weeks ahead, stay awake. Stay attentive to the small mercies. Stay open to the quiet stirrings. Stay rooted in the ordinary moments where God loves to show up first.

And trust- really trust- that even in the waiting, even in the not-yet, even in the places of your life that feel like the dark before dawn.

God is drawing near. Something holy is already unfolding. And when it breaks open, you’ll want to be awake to see it.

Thanks be to God,

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.