happy advent!

or, not so happy sometimes, as it turns out. the beloved buildings and grounds supervisor at my home church was killed in a tragic accident on friday. also, my pastor's mother in law passed away here in virginia on saturday night. both our worship service and the service at my home church had to hold the tension on sunday between the joyful decorations and excitement about advent and the grief felt in the loss of these two members of the church family. but, that's the point, isn't it? the point of advent, i mean. to realize and live in the tension of our reality: that the world is broken and full of grief and that, for just that reason, God choose to become one of us, among us, in the midst of this broken world...and that Christ offers the only real hope we can cling to.

i've written several devotions, prayers, etc. for advent this past week. one of them is below and feels all too true this week. (some of my church friends from atlanta may see these words in another setting soon, too.)

Since we’ve been up here in Virginia, I’ve been surprised how much more I notice the weather, the seasons, the natural world around us. I realize I’ve been noticing the cycles of the moon. I guess it’s hard not to. There are two houses on the hill where we live, with woods behind the houses and acres and acres of rolling hills of meadows in front of the houses. Each house has two outside lights, but they don’t begin to illumine the entire hill. When the moon is not out, you have to use a flashlight at night. But, when the moon is full and the sky is clear, you don’t need a flashlight. You can see everything.

So, in the cycles of darkness and no moon…and especially if the moonlight week of the month gets clouded out, I find myself wandering around at night wondering when the light is coming. The artificial light from the houses, even from my flashlight doesn’t help the same way. I need the real light. It makes the night less scary. In fact, it turns a dark hill full of mysterious shadows and unusual noises that go bump in the night a beautiful scene that will take your breath away.

For me, Advent is about the same thing…wondering why it is always so dark and wondering when the light is coming. We live in a world that is altogether too dark. We know the darkness in our personal lives…in broken relationships, in the addictions that hold us or the ones we love captive, in the pervasive wave of cancer that impacts everyone we know somehow, in abusive situations we can’t stop, in the horrible things that happen to people we love that we can’t explain or fix…we know that darkness. We know the darkness in our communities and in our world…in the reality of folks too numerous to count who are hungry and cold and become invisible, in the despair of God’s creation that is wounded and crying out, in the horrors of wars that seem to have no end…we know the darkness all too well. Too often, we find ourselves surrounded by pain, sadness, anger, and fear.

So, we’re told to fill our lives with artificial light to ease the discomfort. We buy things we think will make us happy, we eat or drink more to “take the edge off”, we live continually searching for what will ease the pain and bring light into our lives. But, it’s not the same. We still have a sense of something missing.

And then…then…we see it, the tiniest glimmer of a star through a hole in the clouds. We are reminded that there is real light. We may not see it very brightly all the time, but this Advent, we remember, the Light of the World came long ago in Bethlehem and we know this same Light, the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer of all that is will come again. We hear John’s words again:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him no one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. John 1:1-5

As we enter this Advent, carrying with us the pain and sadness our broken world brings, we also celebrate the joy because we know the darkness will not win. Light has come among us. Light is coming. And Light will come again. It will be breathtaking.