When The Archbishop Comes To Visit.

The Archbishop of Canterbury came and visited our house when I was a child. Although I was not well-versed in the hierarchy of the Anglican Communion, I realized even then that someone important was coming. The month leading up to his visit caused our home to be uncharacteristicly focused. Toys needed to be put away the minute we were through playing, and the closet in which they were stored was completely organized. The tables and floors shined, and I even noticed a fresh bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter the day he arrival.

I remember going to the front hall to watch for his car. I was curious about what kind of Limousine he would be given. The feeling in the house made we wonder if he would even use a car. “Maybe Archbishops descend”, I jokingly thought.

I was somewhat disappointed when I saw my father’s very ordinary car drive in with passengers. Meeting them in the driveway to help with my one assigned duty (beside being very polite and respectful), the luggage, I was met by a relatively small couple. “And who might you be?” the Archbishop asked. “I’m Chip,” I replied. “Oh yes, ‘Mr. Chips’ I believe your father calls you.” Slightly embarrassed by the revealed family secret, I felt known.

He tried to carry their bags, but I stepped in and began the trek to the guestroom on the third floor. Panting as we arrived, I noticed that bowl of fresh fruit in their room and said without thinking: “You guys got all the fruit!” My parents were mortified, but our guests delighted in the familiarity of my address. Throughout the years that followed, the Archbishop and I called each other “you guys.”

The memory of their visit came as I thought about Advent and the surprises that await us if we truly let Christ in. Like my family, many of us focus at this time of year and try to straighten up our spiritual homes, clearing out the clutter and organizing our closets. We not only anticipate the arrival, we look out the window as the day approaches and imagine each and every detail. Caught up in the spirit of the season, we sometimes picture a grand and glorious arrival.

Like the visitor to my childhood home, however, God comes as we least imagine, without a limo and willing to carry his own luggage. Nervous and rehearsed, we go to greet him, but he knows us at our core and puts us at ease.  We are known.

Never did we imagine God-with-us could feel so good. It’s enough to scream and shout, sing carols enthusiastically, or maybe even buy a bowl of fresh fruit.