"The Sacred Art of Blooming" - 12/04/25

Scripture Reading
"I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning."
— Psalm 130:5-6  NIV


Reflection
There is a quiet liturgy performed in kitchens around the world before the sun truly rises. It begins with the sound of water heating and the rich, earthy scent of crushed beans. In the dim light of early morning, the preparation of coffee ceases to be a mere routine for caffeine consumption and becomes a lesson in the spiritual geography of Advent.

Consider the pour-over method, a simple vessel of glass and paper. When hot water first touches the dry grounds, the brewing process does not immediately rush toward completion. Instead, there is a necessary pause known as the bloom. The water is poured sparingly, just enough to wet the surface. Then, the hand must stop. For nearly a minute, the grounds rise and bubble, releasing carbon dioxide and expanding to receive the water that will follow. In this silence, the coffee is waking up. It creates space within itself to ensure the extraction is full and the flavor is true. To skip this pause is to choose a bitter, hollow cup. To rush the water is to drown the potential held within the bean.

The human soul operates with similar physics. We exist in a culture that treats waiting as an obstacle, a defect in the system that must be engineered away with high-speed connections and instant deliveries.

Advent serves as the church’s collective bloom. It is the pause between the promise and the fulfillment. During these four weeks, the spirit is dampened with the water of prophecy and hope, not to drown us, but to open us.

The Hebrew word for waiting, קָוָה (qavah), implies a binding together, like the twisting of strands to form a strong rope. It is not a passive idling but an active gathering of strength. Similarly, the Korean concept of gidaryeom (기다림, waiting) often carries a nuance of longing that shapes the identity of the one who waits. It suggests that the waiting itself is doing the work.

When the grounds bloom, they are preparing to receive the full pour. Without that expansion, the water would merely channel through the path of least resistance, bypassing the richness entirely. Advent slows the pour of our lives. It asks the heart to expand, to release the stale air of anxiety and urgent rushing, and to simply sit with the moisture of grace. It is in this stillness that the soul becomes porous enough to absorb the mystery of the Incarnation.

The waiting is not a barrier to the blessing. The waiting is the vessel for the blessing. Just as the finest cup requires the discipline of the bloom or the low, steady heat of the stove, the encounter with the Divine requires a spirit willing to tarry in the silence. Here, in the first week of Advent, the invitation is not to speed toward Bethlehem but to stand still in the wilderness, watching, expanding, and brewing a hope that is rich, deep, and fully awakened.


Prayer
God of the slow and steady dawn,
We confess our addiction to the immediate.
Calm the rushing pace of our minds.
Teach us the wisdom of the bloom, clearly showing us that in the silence, You are at work.
Let our waiting be a time of deepening,
So that when the Christ child comes,
Our hearts are fully expanded to receive the joy.
In the name of the One we wait for, Jesus Christ. Amen.