Allow God to Do the Work | A Virtual Pilgrimage Reflecting on the Incarnation - Week 1

Join Fr. Michael Rossman, SJ for this reflection on Monday of the 1st Week of Advent.

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Transcript

When I was a Jesuit novice, there was an older Jesuit who used to tell us that the authentic spiritual life is the opposite of someone standing over a plant yelling, “Grow, darn it, grow!” That image has stuck with me for years because, if I'm honest, that's often how I approach my own life, my prayer, my relationships — even my growth as a person.

I want to see progress. I want to feel like I'm improving. And when I don't, I'm tempted to force it, to do more, to try harder. But that's not how growth happens in the spiritual life. Our growth in love, our deepening faith, our ability to be patient and kind — these don't come from gritting our teeth. They come from God.

They come from time spent in the presence of the One who loved us first. The new liturgical year begins not on January 1, but with the beginning of the Advent season. And the emphasis of this new year is not a bunch of resolutions or self-improvement projects. Rather, we read in Scripture: May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all.

Notice who does the work there: May the Lord make you increase, not “may you make yourself increase.” And that's the heart of Advent. It's not about forcing something to happen. It's about making room for the One who is coming — the One who can make it happen.

I've heard that bamboo can take years before it breaks the surface of the ground. And during those years, it's not dormant. It's growing roots — hidden, unseen, but real. And when it's ready, it can reach the height of a tall building in a matter of weeks. Our spiritual lives can be like that. There are long stretches when it feels like nothing is happening, when we're just waiting and waiting and waiting some more. But underneath, God is at work.

Advent is that kind of season. It's not a time for frantic activity, even though the world around us is in overdrive. It's a time to slow down, to pay attention, to build our roots. And it's a time to be vigilant. That's one of the strong messages we hear early in the Advent season: Stay awake. Be vigilant. Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy.

Now, that's not a threat — it's an invitation. Stay awake, not in fear but in wonder. Be alert, not anxious but open. And yet that's not easy. In a season of crowded schedules and Mariah Carey playing everywhere you go, maybe the best thing we can do to prepare for Christmas isn't to buy one more gift, but to turn something off — the phone, the music, even our own internal noise — and just sit for a moment with the God who is already coming toward us.

Because human beings are not wired to be constantly wired. We need time and silence, time and beauty, time with the One who produces the growth. When I look back on my life, I can tell when I've let that space disappear. The times I've been least patient with others, least joyful, least loving, usually coincide with when I haven't made time for prayer, or beauty, or laughter with the people who matter most.

On the other hand, when I'm grounded, when I've allowed myself to rest in God, then creativity and generosity and love seem to come without forcing them. Good actions flow naturally from resting with the Lord.

And in Advent we pause and prepare. We rest with the Lord who is coming. At Christmas, we'll celebrate that the God who created the stars didn't stay distant — he came close. He took flesh. He entered the world not as a mighty ruler, but as a tiny, vulnerable, beautiful baby, dependent on the care of others. And that's how he still comes: quietly, gently, in the sacraments and hidden beneath ordinary things, like a moment of beauty or nourishing conversation.

So this Advent, instead of shouting, “Grow, darn it, grow!” maybe our prayer could simply be: Come, Lord Jesus. Make me grow in your love.

As we begin this Advent season, may we stay awake — not by doing more, but by noticing more. The same Lord who grew for nine months in Mary's womb is growing something new in each of us. And if we let him — if we water the roots with prayer and attention — he will make us increase and abound in love for one another and for all.