a great light
I've been doing a lot of reading and writing about Christmas, a lot of thinking and praying through Advent, and a lot of listening and singing to the beautiful Christmas songs. Maybe you have also been waiting eagerly for Christmas, wanting to soak in the beauty of the season and the reason behind it all. Or maybe Christmas has come upon you suddenly and faster than you expected, and you're fighting off a mixture of anxiety, frustration, regret, and hurry. Or maybe you're somewhere in the middle. Or somewhere entirely different.
What I've found is that for the most part, we have high hopes for Christmas, holy expectations of something marvelously hopeful, peaceful, joyful, and loving to happen in our soul. And those hopes are often disappointed as the days drag on, full of the same mundane weaknesses, challenges, discouragements, and failures.
What of the light?
Isaiah 9 prophesies of the birth of Christ with the proclamation: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.
In our day-to-day lives, often it doesn't feel like we're seeing a "great light."
I pondered this today at church, with the lights down so low that it was dark throughout the sanctuary.
It felt so dark. Life can feel so dark. Our souls can feel so dark.
But then a shiver ran down my spine - a thrill of hope - as a tiny flame began to flicker on the side of the room. And then two. And then four. The light passed from candle to candle, spreading faster than I could take in. One person at a time received the light, then turned to whoever was near them to give it again. No questions asked, no qualifications, no distinctions, just a passing of light from one to the next.
There was still a lot of darkness in the room, but no one was looking at the darkness. Everyone's eyes were gazing all over the room, taking in the candle flames, seeing the hundreds of tiny lights.
And I thought that maybe it is in all those tiny lights that God sends us his "great light" today.
Oh Immanuel, God-with-us, let us be with each other.
What I've found is that for the most part, we have high hopes for Christmas, holy expectations of something marvelously hopeful, peaceful, joyful, and loving to happen in our soul. And those hopes are often disappointed as the days drag on, full of the same mundane weaknesses, challenges, discouragements, and failures.
What of the light?
Isaiah 9 prophesies of the birth of Christ with the proclamation: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.
In our day-to-day lives, often it doesn't feel like we're seeing a "great light."
I pondered this today at church, with the lights down so low that it was dark throughout the sanctuary.
It felt so dark. Life can feel so dark. Our souls can feel so dark.
But then a shiver ran down my spine - a thrill of hope - as a tiny flame began to flicker on the side of the room. And then two. And then four. The light passed from candle to candle, spreading faster than I could take in. One person at a time received the light, then turned to whoever was near them to give it again. No questions asked, no qualifications, no distinctions, just a passing of light from one to the next.
There was still a lot of darkness in the room, but no one was looking at the darkness. Everyone's eyes were gazing all over the room, taking in the candle flames, seeing the hundreds of tiny lights.
And I thought that maybe it is in all those tiny lights that God sends us his "great light" today.
Oh Immanuel, God-with-us, let us be with each other.
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