Ruth Greenaway-Robbins

“Come and save us, O Lord our God”

O Emmanuel, our King and our lawgiver,
the hope of the nations and their Saviour:
Come and save us, O Lord our God.

After all the titles,

Wisdom.
Lord.
Root.
Key.
Dawn.
King.

We arrive at a name.

Each has drawn us closer, narrowing the focus, sharpening the longing. And now, on the final day before Christmas Eve, the Church dares to speak the most astonishing truth of all: Emmanuel – God with us.

Not God above us.
Not God beyond us.
Not God waiting at the end of our striving.

God with us.

This is the heart of Advent. All the hopes we have named, for justice, liberation, light, unity, and peace, are not fulfilled by God acting from a safe distance, but by God choosing to draw close in vulnerability.

Isaiah’s promise of Emmanuel was first spoken into a time of fear and political uncertainty. None of this prophecy was an abstract theological idea, but instead a sign given to a trembling people: you are not abandoned. God has not withdrawn. Even now, God is with you.

As Christians, we receive that promise anew in Jesus Christ.

The one we have called King does not arrive with an army.
The one we have named Lawgiver does not come coercively.
The one we have longed for as Saviour comes as a child – utterly dependent on his caregivers.

This is not a failure of power, but its redefinition.

In Christ, God chooses to dwell fully within the human condition, within bodies that ache, relationships that strain, lives shaped by love and loss. Emmanuel does not wait for the world to be ready. He comes into the mess of it. Into occupied land. Into poverty. Into uncertainty.

And he comes still.

To pray O Emmanuel is to recognise that salvation is not only something that happens to us, but something that happens with us. God does not save humanity by standing apart from it, but by joining it, sharing our breath, our hunger, our fear, our joy.

There is also a tenderness in the final plea of the antiphon.

“Come and save us, O Lord our God.”

No more imagery. No more metaphor. Just need.

This is the prayer we return to again and again; personally, communally, globally. When words run out. When explanations fail. When the world feels heavy with grief and injustice. Come. Save us. Be with us.

And the astonishing claim of Christmas is that God answers this prayer not with argument, but with presence.

The name Emmanuel does not promise that everything will be easy. It promises that we will not be alone. It assures us that God is found not only in holiness and light, but in ordinary days and fragile lives. In the manger. At the table. On the road. At the cross.

And so, on this final day of Advent waiting, we do not strain forward any longer.

We make space.

We prepare a place for God to dwell.

Today, I encourage us all, and I really do include myself here, to take a moment to be still, to make space, and engage in prayer or wondering, with Emmanuel – God with us today. Allowing God to draw close to us, in our busyness, in our grief, in our hopefulness, in our tiredness. Giving us a moment in the chaos of life and its grief to be with us.

I have one final musical offering as we come to the end of this journey through the O Antiphons. I have decided to share this beautiful version of the full hymn “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” sung by Apollo5 and The VOCES8 Foundation Choir and Orchestra, arranged by Taylor Scott Davis conducted by Barnaby Smith. It is a beautiful arrangement and holds both the immensity of the gift of Emmanuel God with us and also the gentleness and mystery of a baby come in all vulnerability to save us. There is a beautiful shimmering quality to the whole piece.

And thank you for joining me on this journey through the O Antiphons. The idea of daily reflections on the O Antiphons came from reading Cosima Clara Gillhammer’s book ‘Light on Darkness: The Untold Story of the Liturgy’ whilst on holiday in Majorca in the spring this year. It is a book I would 100% recommend. And reminded me of the great beauty of the O Antiphons, which for me was formed in the daily office and the musical versions I have sung for more years than I care to remember.

May these final moments of Advent be a blessing to you.

O Emmanuel,
God with us in flesh and fragility,
draw near to your waiting world.
Be present in our joy and our sorrow,
our hope and our fear.
Come and save us, Lord our God,
and dwell with us always.
Amen.