Advent: The Mercy of Disappointment
Last night I gave a talk on prayer. In preparing for it, I came across this quote from Simon Tugwell, OP, written in an old journal:
Christianity has to be disappointing, precisely because it is not a mechanism for accomplishing all our human ambitions and aspirations; it is a mechanism for subjecting all things to the will of God.
At first, this quote may seem discouraging. Maybe even bleak. Who hasn’t asked God, on more than one occasion, “Lord, what are You doing? To me? To them?”
As we enter this season of waiting, we begin to notice something. There can be disappointment in waiting. But disappointment is not a sign of God’s absence. It is often the moment of His intervention. A kind of meeting place between sadness and surrender.
When I read Tugwell’s quote, I thought of the Rich Young Man. He is the one who kept the commandments and sought the highest good. He came to Jesus looking for a way to complete his own project of righteousness. It seemed like he was seeking a final seal of approval for a life that was well lived, well organized, and well built.
But Jesus offered something different. A way to subject all things to the will of God. The call was simple. Sell everything. Detach. Cut the cord. Turn completely to Jesus.
He was invited to a life of abandonment and total surrender. Jesus was asking him to pass through the dark night and be stripped of all sensory and spiritual appetites. So that he would not rest in the spiritual gifts but in God Himself.
This is what Advent slowly trains the heart to do.
This is a season that calls us to live with our eyes ahead. To wait in hope. Not a shallow hope that things will go according to our plans. But the deeper, sometimes quieter, hope that God is already at work. And yes, even in what feels empty or unclear.
Jesus said, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62).
That’s not a threat. It’s an invitation. To put your hand to the plow is to choose to trust Him. To keep walking forward even when the ground is hard, even when you cannot see the harvest. Looking back means clinging to your own map. Your own storyline. Your idea of what you thought God was supposed to do.
But Advent is a turning. It is a long gaze into the horizon. A holy straining forward. Not because we’re escaping something behind us, but because we are expecting Someone ahead of us.
So the real spiritual question is not, “Why is this hard?” but, “Where is He leading?”
The disappointment of our ambitions can be the beginning of real conversion. It is the mercy of God making room for Himself.
© 2025, Lawain McNeil, Mission Surrender, LLC.
Thank you, Lawain, for sharing once again. Putting my hand to the plow is a showing of trust; never heard it put that way. Now whenever I read that verse, I will always reflect on that understanding. In fact, just read that verse in Luke this morning. Now I understand…
I think it's somewhere in my book, I write about something similar. The realization that the railing-against-God with the accusative "why" question lacks faith. Instead, the real question is: Who are you that you, the God of the universe, care enough about me to enter into this with me, your creature? Or, said another way: I know you are here, where are you?