One of the great classic Christmas carols, “The First Noel,” describes the night of Christ’s birth as a “cold winter’s night, that was so deep.”
It is dreamy and dramatic to think of Jesus coming into a cold, dark, dreary (and even snowy) world, bringing angels, glorious stars, kings bearing expensive gifts, and joyous songs.
We tend to look at Advent as a time of darkness and silence, in anticipation of the coming light and the Gospel. The idea that the world before the Birth of the Savior was cold continues the pattern of absence. Darkness does not exist independently. Neither does silence or cold. Each is the absence of something else– Light, sound, warmth–and it can only be known by the degree to which its opposite is reduced, distant, or absent. In contrast, the light, sound, or warmth is made more evident in contrast with its opposite–we may not notice a slight difference in lighting on a sunny day, or a slight difference in temperature; but a candle in a dark room, or a whisper in a silent auditorium has a dramatic effect.
We don’t actually know the exact date of Jesus’ birth, and while December falls during winter, that doesn’t always mean a cold night in every part of the world. If shepherds were watching their flocks in fields just outside of Bethlehem, it is not likely that the temperatures were below freezing, or that there was snow and ice all around. The Middle East is not known for icy winters, after all. Nighttime generally brings colder temperatures, and it may be close to freezing by the middle of the night if you have no fire or protection from the wind, but a “cold winter’s night” is more likely to be found in Minnesota or Finland, not in Bethlehem, and usually in the middle of winter– January– rather than the beginning of the season.
However, just like the darkness and silence, the cold of that first Christmas was spiritual in nature. (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John+1%3A9-12&version=ESV). Jesus entered a frigid world– a world of closed-off people, suspicious, oppressed, angry, sick, and world-weary. Hatred can be cold, but colder still is apathy and disdain and hopelessness. The world of Advent is a world desperate for the light and heat and sound of God’s love– not because God is absent, but because people have moved so far away from Him. The light becomes dimmer, the songs become a series of indistinct noises, and the cold and damp of night creep into our souls. Today, even with the hope and light of the Gospel story, we take our focus off of the true light of the world, and the true source of warmth and love, and too often focus on the lesser warmth of a new jacket, or the glittering lights of a shopping center, or the strident sounds of greed and envy.
Jesus may not have come in the cold of midwinter. But He came into a world of cold hearts as a helpless baby in a strange and unwelcoming land. And he was wrapped in rags and placed in a feeding trough– the warmest place that could be found. But even in this tiny, shivering baby, there was the warmth of Pure Love. And it was felt by all who came in contact with Him– shepherds rejoiced, Mary pondered, Wise Men knelt in adoration.
I love seeing candles and firesides at Christmas time– I love coming into a warm house, full of laughter and love, or singing carols on a cold night, and being invited inside to share the warmth. I love fellowship at church, and sharing a hug and a smile with those I meet. Imagine the warmth of God with us–All of the warmth and life of being wrapped in the arms of Grace, and held by the nail-scarred hands, never to be cold or alone ever again. Can you feel it? Can you anticipate it? Imagine passing that on to someone who has never known such warmth…on a cold winter’s night…
Many Christians are celebrating Advent by lighting candles. So I thought I’d just mention a couple of quick thoughts about how prayer is like a candle:
Even a small candle can provide enough light to make a real difference in the darkness. Sometimes, we feel our prayers are small and ineffective, like a single candle in a dark room. But a single candle can pierce the darkness and offer hope and focus and even warmth where there was none before. In the season of Advent, we light candles to mark the weeks of waiting for the One who is the Light of the World to come into the darkness. His light was enough to save the world from the darkness of Sin and Death. And it is This Light who hears our prayers and intercedes for us. It is This Light who empowers us to share hope and love where it is most needed right now, right where we are.
We are never a single candle! Not only do we have Christ living in us, and His Holy Spirit empowering us; God’s people around the world, through all places and times, are praying. Imagine seeing a single candle at the end of darkened room. Now, imagine how much brighter to see a long table lined with a row of candles, or a room lit by chandeliers and wall sconces with dozens of candles. Even if they are spread out– especially if they are spread out– they will fill every corner of the room with light and warmth. This is one of the reasons it is so important to pray for believers around the world, and to pray with other believers, through prayer nets, prayer meetings, prayer lists and blogs, and prayer journals.
Our prayers are powerful. Not because of our “candle”, but because of the light God provides when we pray
The other day, a local artist stopped by our shop. He commented on the giant mirrors we have lining the north wall of the store. I explained that when we first moved in, the mirrors were left over from a dance studio that had once inhabited the space. They left the mirrors and the barres on the opposite wall. We liked them and left them in place. The mirrors bring in a lot of extra light, and they make our space look bigger than it actually is. The barres make convenient spaces to hang linens and other items for display.
The artist nodded. I went on to explain that we hated the thought of someone removing the mirrors (four panels that run about 7 feet in height and stretch about 30 feet along the wall) because of the risk that they would be shattered and ruined. Then, the artist told his story. One of his early studios was in a small garage lined with large mirrors. Like us, he liked that the mirrors made the small space feel lighter and larger. The extra light was also helpful in creating his art. But when he moved to another studio, the panels were removed, and they broke into several pieces. Instead of throwing them out, however, he glued them into a new pattern on the walls of his now larger studio. He used the broken mirrors to create light and beauty– different from before, but with new meaning and renewed purpose.
And it reminded me of what Jesus does for us. We were created to reflect the light of God’s love, to bring light into a dark world. But often, we feel shattered and useless. Sometimes, God is trying to move us into a different space; different circumstances; a different outlook. From our perspective, it looks like failure. We might even try to glue ourselves back into the same old pattern, but without success. And often, we expect God to see us as just so many shattered pieces, ready to be swept up and thrown out. Or something so broken that we no longer have the power to reflect His light.
But God is an artist. He delights in rescuing those of us who are broken. God redeems our purpose and our worth, giving us new and abundant life. He finds beauty in the broken, and a message in our mess. The prophet Jeremiah speaks to this through the artistic metaphor of the Potter and the clay. (see Jeremiah chapter 18) God molds us and shapes us; He has the power and authority to reshape us for new beauty and usefulness. God was speaking to Jeremiah about the nation of Israel. They had broken their covenant with God, and He was about to punish them. But God still had plans for their renewal and their future– including their ultimate redemption at the hands of His Son! God doesn’t give up on us. Of course, God’s message through Jeremiah is not only about renewal, but about submitting to His design and purpose for us. We cannot reshape ourselves– whether clay pots or shattered mirrors. Only God has the power to shape our purpose.
But more than that, God can reshape our outlook, so that WE too can see the beauty around us, in spite of the brokenness. We see people differently; we see situations differently. We see possibilities where we used to see only problems. We see hope, where there used to be despair. And we are empowered to reflect that hope to those around us. Even though we have been broken, we can still fulfill our God-given purpose of reflecting light and love and beauty.
God has been preparing me for a big move lately. After several years, David and I will be closing our shop at the end of this year. Someday, another renter or owner may remove the lovely mirrors that line our north wall. And part of my heart feels broken at the thought of “moving on” and starting a new chapter. But my artist neighbor reminded me that there is often great beauty in the broken– if we have the eyes to see it. God isn’t finished with me– I will find a meaningful way to serve and share and reflect His love. It may be in a different way or a different place. And our shop will go on to be used for another purpose at some point. And even if the lovely mirrors are no longer in place, the north wall will have beauty and purpose for someone else.
(This post is an updated version of one that first appeared three years ago, during the COVID pandemic. I have updated a few of the references to reflect the change. There is still a lot of darkness and confusion in the world, but some of the sources have changed a bit.)
The past few days have been a dark place for me. I don’t mean that something horrible has happened, or that my life has been upended. But things seem dim and indistinct. Some things I took for granted turn out to be less than sure. Events have been chaotic and tinged with evil and sadness. The present economy seems far from certain, and rumors swirl around the upcoming elections. Many places around the world are at war, and there is violence, unrest, crime, and uncertainty nearly everywhere. Even traditionally “safe” institutions like the family and the Church are under constant attack. It is difficult to know who or what to trust– everything seems shadowed and indistinct.
I read a novel a while ago, set in the early days of World War II in London. Because of the threat of air raids from Germany, the people were required to “black out” their windows at night, and drive with no headlights. People who had driven or walked around the streets of London with confidence just weeks before were being injured or even killed because they could no longer trust the once familiar streets. Craters and rubble from bombing raids, or hastily built ditches and barricades; hidden dangers filled neighborhoods. And people could not count on streetlights, headlights, or lights in windows to guide them safely home. At the same time, thousands of people, fearing that the Germans would use deadly gas, were carrying around gas masks (just in case!), and leaving them on buses or at pubs or train stations, because they were unused to the extra responsibility. Suddenly, the gas mask they were depending on was lost, and all the extra preparation turned out to be useless, anyway.
It reminds me how often I would see people just a couple of years ago, getting ready to enter a store, only to return to their car for their required mask. Many people wore them “the wrong way:” others wore them for months longer than necessary. Still others wore the same mask for several days but failed to wash their hands. Some people stayed in their homes for weeks, even when they could have spent some time getting fresh air at a park or one their porch or stoop. Others took great risks going to stores where other customers were sick. And many workers had no choice but to report to work, knowing they would be exposed to COVID. Many people refused to get the vaccines once they became available, while others were demanding that everyone had to get the vaccine or be charged with a crime. No one was sure if they were “safe”– even with masks, vaccines, and other protocols. It was a very dark time.
Hard times and difficult situations can cause us to shift our focus and have to learn new routines–even new vocabulary! At certain times, life almost seems “normal.” At others, we seem to be tossed by every new wave that comes along. It can be easy to lose one’s way in the fog and darkness of chaos and changing times.
The Psalmist and King, David, had words of wisdom for times like these: “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119: 105 KJV)
Even when things seem dark and it feels like I’ve lost my way, God is right beside me. If I have no other “light” to see by, God’s word will be enough to guide me on. When I pray– even in the dark–God sees me clearly, and knows the way ahead.
(SPOILER ALERT)– this post is about The Lord of the Rings and contains many references to plot devices. If you have not read the books or seen the movies, you will be confused and the narrative will be spoiled..
It’s no secret that I am a big fan of the Lord of the Rings by J.R.R.Tolkein. I’ve read through the trilogy several times, and I love to watch the movie version, as well. Even though it is a fantasy story, many of the situations and lessons are “true.” We may not face orcs or dragons or undead ring-wraiths, but we do face difficult challenges, such as war, grief, confusion, and oppression. We WILL face difficulties in life; we need to face them with resolve, courage, wisdom, and action. We may not have to destroy the Ring of Power, but we may have to battle addictions, habits, and relationships that threaten to destroy us.
One of the elements of the Lord of the Rings that captured my imagination from the very first readings was the “fall” of the wizards, Gandalf and Saruman. Saruman, who is introduced as one of the council of “good” wizards, and a mentor/friend of Gandalf, seems like someone who will be able to help the Fellowship in their quest to destroy the Ring of Power. But Saruman has “fallen” under the thrall of the evil Sauron. Using one of the “seeing stones,” Saruman has seen into the Dark Lord’s plans, and has decided that his own wisdom and power are enough to equal those of Sauron. His “fall” is one of self-delusion and arrogance. And his fall is described in terms of color. Where once he was called Saruman the White (the color of light when all the colors come together), Saruman becomes a prism, reflecting all the colors, but broken up, diffused, and no longer giving a true light.
Gandalf’s “fall” in the chasm as he battles the demonic Balrog is both dramatic and unexpected. Coming on the heels of Saruman’s betrayal, it sends shockwaves through all of Middle Earth. It left me devastated. After all, Gandalf is wise, good, and powerful. Having read The Hobbit, it was comforting to have a familiar guiding force to lead this new “adventure.” It is his knowledge and encouragement that has provided leadership and stability for the Fellowship of the Ring. His sudden and tragic absence leaves a gaping hole and many questions. His is a literal “fall.” He falls into blackness– fire and shadow and utter silence.
It strikes me that the wizards of The Lord of the Rings are not unlike the gods and heroes we make for ourselves. We imagine God (and often human heroes, including pastors and other religious figures) as being benign old men, walking among us, offering just enough wisdom, power, and “magic” to entertain, enlighten, and encourage us. We listen for good advice (whether or not we actually take it!), and we take comfort in the fact that they seem to know all that is going to happen. Of course, the wizards in the books are not REALLY gods–they know many things, but they cannot see all ends; they have great power, but they cannot defeat Sauron on their own (nor successfully challenge him, as Saruman learns); they are not always where they say they will be when they said they would be there.
“You’re late, Gandalf!” “A wizards is never late, Frodo Baggins. Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.” (From the Fellowship of the Ring)
Not only is Gandalf “late” for Bilbo’s special party (according to Frodo), but he completely misses his meeting with Frodo and the other hobbits in Bree, due to circumstances beyond his control. And, when the company seems to need him most, he falls into the great chasm and they must flee to the Elves at Imladris. Galadriel offers some encouragement, but it is tinged with dire warnings. Saruman’s “fall” highlights his shortcomings– he can only “see” victory through compromise, deception, and the machinery of war. Everything about him becomes twisted and sullied. In the books, he ends up being a two-bit tyrant, defeated in his attempt to take over the Shire. In the movies, he “falls” from his tower of Orthanc and sinks into the stinking pools festering around his ruined ambitions.
What about our visions and expectations of God? Sometimes, it seems as though He is “late” or “absent” in the midst of our difficulties. We want Him to come in and save the day– tell us exactly what to do next, or make an obstacle disappear, or bring a host of warriors to fight our battles. Other times, it seems as though our vision of God is seen through a prism…if God is really good, how could He let _______ happen? If God is really just, why is there still so much injustice around us? And what about others who follow a different “God.” Which one is real? Which one is “Right?” How can we know? In fact, those who follow Christ are following a God who faced betrayal and death– and He seemed to be defeated. And sometimes, it seems as though He has left us to the mercy of the evil that surrounds us.
God sometimes seems to be “fallen into shadow.” He seems to be absent. Or at least distant and silent. Just as in The Lord of the Rings, we can be left like the Fellowship– shocked, dismayed, left feeling lost and hopeless. Where is God in those moments?
But when I re-read the books, or when I sit down to binge-watch the movies –again– I find myself seeing things from a different perspective. Gandalf and Saruman both “fall” before even the middle of the story. Saruman’s betrayal seems not just tragic, but nearly insurmountable. Gandalf’s absence leads (indirectly) to the breaking up of the Fellowship into smaller, leaderless factions. But here’s what I see clearly in reflection– the Shadows that seem to swirl around the wizards are just that. They are shadows. There is darkness in the Land of Mordor. But Frodo and the rest of the Fellowship carry their own light. (Frodo, in fact, carries a literal light in his gift from Galadriel). They stay true to one another and true to their quest. As Sam points out at Osgiliath, they have had many chances of turning back and giving up, but they hold on to the hope that Good will win over Darkness, and Truth will defeat oppression and deceit, and yes, even the Ring of Power. Gandalf’s absence, while shocking and discouraging, is not permanent, nor is it devastating. It only seems so in the shadow of uncertainty and the chaos of war and suffering. The other members of the Fellowship actually develop their character, their strengths, and their gifts when Gandalf isn’t there to make things easier. He has already given them the wisdom they need– even if they don’t realize it. Gimli and Legolas become a team as their unlikely friendship develops. Merry and Pippin mature into warriors and diplomats. Aragorn becomes the King he was always destined to be. Frodo and Sam–unaware of Gandalf’s victory until the very end, still face all their dangers, including betrayal by Gollum, and save all of Middle Earth!
And so it is with our difficulties. We are looking around for help, wondering how we will continue if God is in the shadows; if God remains silent. We want to see His hand moving the chess pieces, or hear His voice calling out our next step. When we don’t hear it, we can make bad choices– we can give up hope, compromise with the enemy, or trust in our own power to see us through–or we can stay true to His Word and keep running the good race (see 2 Timothy 4:7-8) God does not abandon us– unlike the wizards, He is omniscient and omnipresent– but sometimes He stays in the shadows, knowing that it is for our development and maturity. I don’t have certainty about my choices and my actions, but I have the Bible and I have the Holy Spirit.. I have prayer. And I have the people God sends into my life to give advice and encouragement. I may not know if I can trust even the advice of religious leaders, but I can compare their advice with what I read in God’s Word and what I see in their actions. When I read the Bible, I read about promises God made to the nation of Israel– promises He kept. I read in Ezekiel, and Daniel, and again in Matthew and Revelation about His promises for the end of the ages.
It may look dark for the characters in The Lord of the Rings as they battle their way through Middle Earth. But I DO know how the story ends! I know that Gandalf does not stay in the shadows– he comes back more powerful than ever! And Saruman’s army of orcs is defeated; Saruman’s poisonous plot to usurp the mind and will of King Theoden is discovered and the king restored to health. And the Fellowship (excepting Boromir) is reunited after Frodo and Sam are successful in destroying the Ring. And I may not know the next step in my own story, but I know how my story will end! God may seem to be AWOL or “in the shadows” during my current circumstances– in my grieving, struggling, and pain. I may not see justice and peace in my near future– I may not see them in my lifetime– but I can KNOW that God is never late. He is never too early. He will arrive precisely when He means to. No shadow will be able to hide Him; no darkness will be able to comprehend Him. He will come in the blazing light of His Glory– and He will come to make all things new!
Prayer is an exercise in juxtaposition–we seek to have intimate conversation with a mysterious and unknowable God. He INVITES us into this mystery. He pursues us, seeks us out, surrounds us with His Presence, yet He hides His face from us and shrouds Himself in light and cloud.
God is Spirit– He is Eternal, Omnipresent, and Invisible. Yet He chooses to reveal Himself– in the beauty of Nature, in the smile of a stranger, in His revealed Word, and through His Son. Everything we need, we can find in and through Him, yet we cannot say that we comprehend Him, because He is so far above and beyond anything we can imagine.
Prayer is a humbling experience– to approach the Throne of the One who holds the Universe in the palm of His hand; but it is also an intimate and very personal experience– to run into the arms of the One who knit us together and knows the very hairs on our head (or lack thereof!).
After a lifetime of praying and pursuing prayer, I still marvel at the complexity, majesty, mystery, and fragility of prayer. That God should desire to listen to me–whimpering, questioning, confessing, and even offering my best and inadequate praise– it astounds me. And yet it also sustains me, strengthens me, and stimulates me. This same God who holds the stars and planets inhabits the tiniest of atoms in the air I breathe. The same God who ordered the first sunrise, and has watched empires rise and fall, cares when I shed a tear and rejoices when I laugh. God who is perfect, has mercy on me when I confess my pettiness and offers forgiveness when I throw tantrums. The same God who bore the pain and agony of betrayal and crucifixion promises eternal life to those who have rejected Him– if only they will listen, turn, and follow Him.
Today, let the awe of Who God IS– both sovereign, unknowable, and mysterious, AND intimate, loving, and gracious–wash over you as you enter into prayer.
Of David. 1 The Lord is my light and my salvation— whom should I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life— whom should I dread? 2 When evildoers came against me to devour my flesh, my foes and my enemies stumbled and fell. 3 Though an army deploys against me, my heart will not be afraid; though a war breaks out against me, I will still be confident. 4 I have asked one thing from the Lord; it is what I desire: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, gazing on the beauty of the Lord and seeking him in his temple. 5 For he will conceal me in his shelter in the day of adversity; he will hide me under the cover of his tent; he will set me high on a rock. 6 Then my head will be high above my enemies around me; I will offer sacrifices in his tent with shouts of joy. I will sing and make music to the Lord. 7 Lord, hear my voice when I call; be gracious to me and answer me. 8 My heart says this about you: “Seek his face.” Lord, I will seek your face. 9 Do not hide your face from me; do not turn your servant away in anger. You have been my helper; do not leave me or abandon me, God of my salvation. 10 Even if my father and mother abandon me, the Lord cares for me. 11 Because of my adversaries, show me your way, Lord, and lead me on a level path. 12 Do not give me over to the will of my foes, for false witnesses rise up against me, breathing violence. 13 I am certain that I will see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living. 14 Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord.
There are a lot of scary things in our world– war, disaster, taxes, death, violence, injustice, disease, uncertainty, evil, darkness, even supernatural and spiritual darkness–enough to keep us frightened and sleepless every night! And we spend a lot of our time fearing the unknown–worrying about the future; worrying about things that have not happened, and may never happen! We worry about things that matter– the health and well-being of our loved ones, uncertainty about our job or home, crime and civil unrest in our nation or neighborhood, difficult decisions with serious consequences. We worry about things that are less urgent–someone laughing at us, hair loss, dropping a phone call, running out of gas, losing a game or an argument…
David had some real reasons to be fearful as he wrote Psalm 27–evildoers, enemies, war and armies, false witnesses, and violence. Yet, he found safety and strength in the Lord. We can take comfort in the message of this Psalm–God is faithful. He is strong. He is eternal and unchanging. He is a stronghold we can trust.
But before we get too comfortable, let’s take a closer look. David’s trust is not based on a superficial knowledge about God. David’s trust comes as a result of seeking God’s face and following in “your way” (v. 11). David’s life was proof of God’s strength and protection, because David’s life was filled with fearsome adversaries!
Many generations after David penned this Psalm, the prophet Amos wrote to the people of Israel– people who knew this comforting psalm, but had lost their fear–people who no longer sought the Lord’s protection or His ways.
Amos 5 Christian Standard Bible (CSB)
5 Listen to this message that I am singing for you, a lament, house of Israel: 2 She has fallen; Virgin Israel will never rise again. She lies abandoned on her land with no one to raise her up. 3 For the Lord God says: The city that marches out a thousand strong will have only a hundred left, and the one that marches out a hundred strong will have only ten left in the house of Israel.
4 For the Lord says to the house of Israel: Seek me and live! 5 Do not seek Bethel or go to Gilgal or journey to Beer-sheba, for Gilgal will certainly go into exile, and Bethel will come to nothing. 6 Seek the Lord and live, or he will spread like fire throughout the house of Joseph; it will consume everything with no one at Bethel to extinguish it. 7 Those who turn justice into wormwood also throw righteousness to the ground. 8 The one who made the Pleiades and Orion, who turns darkness into dawn and darkens day into night, who summons the water of the sea and pours it out over the surface of the earth— the Lord is his name. 9 He brings destruction on the strong, and it falls on the fortress. 10 They hate the one who convicts the guilty at the city gate, and they despise the one who speaks with integrity. 11 Therefore, because you trample on the poor and exact a grain tax from him, you will never live in the houses of cut stone you have built; you will never drink the wine from the lush vineyards you have planted. 12 For I know your crimes are many and your sins innumerable. They oppress the righteous, take a bribe, and deprive the poor of justice at the city gates. 13 Therefore, those who have insight will keep silent at such a time, for the days are evil. 14 Pursue good and not evil so that you may live, and the Lord, the God of Armies, will be with you as you have claimed. 15 Hate evil and love good; establish justice in the city gate. Perhaps the Lord, the God of Armies, will be gracious to the remnant of Joseph. 16 Therefore the Lord, the God of Armies, the Lord, says: There will be wailing in all the public squares; they will cry out in anguish in all the streets. The farmer will be called on to mourn, and professional mourners to wail. 17 There will be wailing in all the vineyards, for I will pass among you. The Lord has spoken.
18 Woe to you who long for the day of the Lord! What will the day of the Lord be for you? It will be darkness and not light. 19 It will be like a man who flees from a lion only to have a bear confront him. He goes home and rests his hand against the wall only to have a snake bite him. 20 Won’t the day of the Lord be darkness rather than light, even gloom without any brightness in it? 21 I hate, I despise, your feasts! I can’t stand the stench of your solemn assemblies. 22 Even if you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; I will have no regard for your fellowship offerings of fattened cattle. 23 Take away from me the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. 24 But let justice flow like water, and righteousness, like an unfailing stream. 25 “House of Israel, was it sacrifices and grain offerings that you presented to me during the forty years in the wilderness? 26 But you have taken up Sakkuth your king and Kaiwan your star god, images you have made for yourselves. 27 So I will send you into exile beyond Damascus.” The Lord, the God of Armies, is his name. He has spoken.
The people have an outward confidence– they believe themselves to be under God’s protection and blessing. They offer sacrifices and sing worship songs and revel in their success and peace. But God’s words are frightening and urgent. Those who arrogantly call for the “Day of the Lord,” expecting God to pass judgment on their enemies will find to their shock and horror, that God’s wrath falls on them as well. Their confidence has been misplaced, because it has rested on a false picture of God, and an exaggerated sense of their own righteousness. God warns them that judgment is coming– and even as He does, He issues an invitation– “Seek me and live!” (v. 4– see also v. 6 and v. 14). God has withheld judgment, He has given His people opportunity to follow His way. Instead, they have followed the ways of the very enemies they used to fear! Their feasts and festivals have become nothing but a mockery and an affront to God–the same people who claim to worship Him are perverting justice and oppressing the poor. They cheer for evil and refuse to listen to the truth.
God is a stronghold and a light to banish fear and darkness–but a stronghold or tower cannot protect you if you are wandering alone and unprotected or worse yet, if you are leaving the tower to embrace the enemy in the dark! God doesn’t just want to be a light at the end of the tunnel– He wants to be a light to show us the road right in front of us, and a light to banish the darkness where our enemy hides! When we have a proper “fear” of the Lord– when we recognize His wisdom, strength, and sovereignty– when we seek Him in humility and awe and need, and dwell with Him, we need not fear anyone or anything else. When we make empty boasts about God’s favor and protection while ignoring His ways, and we drown out His loving warning and His call to return to safety…we should be afraid– very afraid!
Father, may I find my confidence only in You. I want to dwell in Your house and seek Your face today and every day. Thank You for being eternally strong, righteous, faithful, and merciful! Thank you for giving us warnings and providing restoration, hope, and salvation. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
Candlemas, the celebration on which Groundhog Day is founded, is actually the day of the Baby Jesus’ presentation in the Temple (see Luke 2:22-40). Forty days after his birth, every first-born male child in Israel was to be presented at the temple, and a sacrifice was to be made for his redemption. This traces back to the Passover tradition, when the angel of death passed over the houses of the Jewish families who had painted their door frames with blood. Meanwhile, the first born sons (and animals) throughout Egypt were slaughtered. In this way, God showed His Power and His Mercy, leading Israel out of Egypt in triumph, while showing judgment on the Egyptians. (See Exodus 12).
History and tradition cast long shadows. The Jews had been slaves in Egypt for nearly 400 years. A new tradition helped them remember where they had come from and celebrate the promise that God would lead them to their own land. The Jewish people had kept this sacrificial tradition for centuries, reminding them of God’s mercy in saving their sons, and in redeeming them as a people from slavery in Egypt. Christians, realizing that this tradition “foreshadowed” the coming of Christ, adapted it into a new celebration. Christians celebrated Candlemas for centuries, remembering that Jesus was presented as OUR sacrifice, OUR redemption from Death into eternal Life Jesus came to be our Sacrifice, and also our Light.
But somewhere along the way, pagan beliefs and rituals were woven into the story of this day, until it has become “Groundhog Day.” Instead of the Lamb of God, we celebrate a common rodent. Somewhere in Pennsylvania (Punxsutawney), a small crowd gathers as someone lifts up a frightened groundhog and pronounces a weather prediction (one that is less than 50% accurate!) And everyone is looking for a shadow, instead of celebrating the Light.
The thing about shadows is that you cannot see them when you are looking INTO the light. You have to look away, turn around, look back, to see a shadow. Shadows are cast when something gets between the source of light and a flat surface. History casts shadows. Memories cast shadows. Sin casts a huge shadow. But Jesus is pure light. The Word of Life came to be a “lamp unto (our) feet and a light unto (our) path” (Psalm 119:105 KJV). We are meant to learn from the shadows of the past, but not to walk in them. We are to walk in the light, looking forward to the fulfillment of God’s promises, even as we celebrate the faithfulness of His past actions in the lives of others.
Light casts no shadow. But it banishes the darkness where shadows live. Our choices have consequences. We can turn away from the light, or step in opposition to the light, and cast shadows that may follow for generations–cycles of abuse, isolation, hatred, anger, or regrets. Or we can choose to follow the light, and banish the shadows of the past– bringing peace, repentance, reconciliation, and hope.
Heavenly Father, today, I pray that I will be a reflection of Your light in the world; that my actions would help banish shadows of doubt and despair, and shine with Your truth and hope for others to see. Where there are shadows in my life from the past, may I learn from them and leave them behind as I follow you more closely. Where I have cast shadows in the lives of others, help me to bring light and healing in Your name. Amen.
It’s that season of the year, when several companies have their annual “Christmas Parties.” Some companies, in an effort not to offend any of their employees, investors, etc., have stopped calling them “Christmas” parties– they are “holiday” parties or “year-end” celebrations. In fact, at one place I worked, they stopped having any parties for the employees, claiming it was a “bad look” to “waste” money on such nonsense! Bah, Humbug!
But company Christmas/Holiday parties have a tendency toward the silliest and least meaningful ways of celebrating what this season and its holidays are all about. Often, the festivities involve a cash (or open) bar, some sort of anonymous gift exchange– white elephant or “secret Santa” with a spending limit of $5 or $10 dollars, and an ugly sweater contest.
And there is an entire industry predicated on the modern tradition of the “ugly” holiday sweater. Garish, loud, often bedecked with pom-poms, tinsel, or even battery-operated flashing lights, such sweaters can cost a minor fortune. They get worn once a year (twice if you have to go to a second party with a spouse, friend, or as a chaperone). And, while I don’t want them banned, I think they represent some of the worst excesses of our modern first world. They serve no higher purpose than to draw attention to bad taste and mock the core values of Christmas, Hanukkah, and other seasonal holidays. They are about tacky and fleeting entertainment, at the expense of higher virtues.
I’m not trying to be a Scrooge or a Grinch. The holidays should be a time of joy and laughter. But is a tacky sweater really the best we can come up with? Is it in the top ten best ways to enjoy a season of miracles, love, light, giving, and hope? (I feel the same way about the focus on drinking– waking up hungover and sick; not being able to remember the end of the party– how is this “fun?”)
In our effort to have “Christmas” without “Christ” or Hanukkah without miracles; in our efforts to erase God from the celebrations of HIS goodness, we have created a level of fake celebration that echoes the story of “The Emperor’s New Clothes.” We’re walking around with ugly sweaters, each more elaborately ugly than the one before, considering it a triumph to be the biggest fool in a forest of foolishness.
Imagine giving that ugly Christmas sweater to someone who was homeless and had no warm clothes. Would it make you laugh to see someone in those circumstances wearing your once-a-year indulgence? Would your ugly sweater bring hope and healing to those who are refugees this season? Do you wear it when no one else can see it? The sweater isn’t about the season. It really has nothing to do with the meaning of the Holidays. It’s about impressing people with your willingness to stand out; your ingenuity in finding an uglier sweater than anyone else; it’s about YOU.
What would happen if, instead of an ugly sweater contest, seeing who can drink the most before passing out, or a white elephant exchange of worthless gifts, companies celebrated with worthwhile activities– building community ties, honoring achievements, or maybe even reflecting on miracles in our midst? What if our celebrations were less about empty amusements and more about reflecting on what is genuinely worth celebrating–health, friendships, family, hope, and purpose? They might be less amusing, but they might also be more memorable and meaningful.
There’s nothing “wicked” about ugly sweaters or white elephants– but they are becoming symbols of the kind of “Christ-less” Christmas that offers mild entertainment, but no hope for the dark days of a long winter. They are some of the symbols of excessive economic wealth in the midst of emotional and moral poverty. Naked and empty entertainment, pretending to offer light and satisfaction, but settling for glitter and gluttony.
Today, I’m going to wear a sweatshirt to keep warm, and I’m going to spend some time with my family– building memories that will last much longer than last season’s ugly sweater! And I will spend some time thanking God for the sweatshirt, my grandkids, and for the incredible gift of His Son–the real meaning of this season of love, gifts, miracles and hope–our real reason for celebrating Christ-mas!
Christmas is a time of joy and light. But the time of Advent is often a time of somber reflection. We remember a time we have never known– a time before the coming of Christ the Messiah– a time before the mysteries of Heaven were revealed and before the victory of Salvation was accomplished. Advent reminds us of the spiritual darkness that existed before God, in human form, in humble obedience, and in sacrificial love, became the Light of the World, and the Hope of All Nations.
Before the bells rang, and the angels sang; before the kings brought gold and the shepherds ran to tell the news; before there were Christmas Carols, Christmas decorations, or Christmas pageants– there was solemn silence, fear, dread, and waiting. God had been silent. The prophets had been silent. The world had grown hard and cold.
Jesus stepped out of the unfathomable glory of the Highest Heaven– surrounded by armies of angels all worshiping Him and ready to do His bidding. In an instant, He became a helpless fetus inside a helpless young woman, a subject of the Roman Empire, and at the mercy of her culture. Her fiance could have repudiated her; her parents could have disowned her; her community could have had her stoned to death, along with her unborn child. No one, even those who were anticipating the arrival of a Christ, was expecting this tiny baby growing inside the womb to change the course of history.
He was born in obscurity, in ignominious squalor. He was the Lord of All Creation, wrapped in rags and laid in a feeding trough in an overcrowded city at tax time. There were no bells or carolers, no glittering trees or festivals of lights, no sounds of joy and celebration– not in that manger in Bethlehem. Instead, there were strangers pushing and shoving, shouting, and snoring in the inns and houses and streets, being watched by soldiers and pickpockets alike, as they made their way through narrow, unfamiliar streets and tried to lock out the worry and danger and dread. There may have been silence in the fields and valleys outside of town, but not near the stable where Jesus was born. No. The “silence” we sing about during Advent is the silence inside our own hearts– a call to “be still,” and know that this baby we celebrate is God Incarnate. He is the One to whom every knee will one day bow, and every tongue confess that He is LORD.
In the stillness and silence of Advent, in the darkness lit only by candles and faint hope, we being to understand the contrast. We re-imagine what came before the joy and hope and eternal clouds of witnesses shouting, “Holy, Holy, Holy!” We remember the days and years before the angels sang, and the star danced across the night sky– before the shocking crucifixion and the glorious resurrection of this still unborn Savior.
Let us spend these days of Advent preparing our hearts for the true wonder of Christmas. It doesn’t come in the wrapped packages under a festive tree, or in the feasting with friends or family. It doesn’t come with sirens and parades, or speakers at the mall blaring out favorite tunes. It doesn’t come in the majesty of a Cathedral ringing with the voices of a choir and organ. It comes when the silence and darkness of our sin and dread are pierced with the overwhelming glory of God With Us– Emmanuel is coming! But for now, for these moments, Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence.
Pursuing Prayer 