Finding Hope In The Darkness This Advent Season

One week ago, my nephew passed on from this temporal, earthly life into eternal heavenly rest with his Savior, Jesus. A few days later, my cat went missing, presumed dead. A confession: I do not enjoy many of the “Christmas traditions” because they have little or nothing to do with Jesus or His birth; however, I do love Advent. Those who know me very well at all know this. If you didn’t already know this about me, please withhold your “Scrooge” or “Grinch” name-calling for a moment and hear me out.

Advent

Ad·​vent ˈad-ˌvent (noun)

1: the period beginning four Sundays before Christmas and observed by some Christians as a season of prayer and fasting

2 a: the coming of Christ at the Incarnation (see incarnation sense 3b(1))
b: second coming

— Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/Advent

Advent is a season of longing, waiting, and remembering; a season of looking forward. I love my Savior, Jesus. And I’m grateful for the living hope I have in Him, even when the bleak dark death leads me to feel otherwise. I’m grateful He came to earth some 2000 years ago, and I’m grateful He will come again. In the meantime, I’m grateful He is always with me… even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. I will fear no evil, for His shepherd’s rod and staff comfort me (Psalm 23).

Tomorrow is my son’s 20th birthday. Buds are already swelling on the lilac outside my bedroom window. The Winter Solstice is in two days, and on the following day, little by little, we’ll begin to notice the days getting lighter for longer.

So when I think of Advent, I think of the God who humbled Himself to be born in a barn, shortly afterward to become a refugee in a foreign land. As Isaiah 53:3 tells us, “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.” That same loving Creator God who made the seasons and lifespans and trees that shed their leaves in preparation for new growth, is the same God Who, as the Apostle Peter wrote, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed” (1 Peter 2:24).

“Amazing love! How can it be that Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?”
— Charles Wesley

Paradox

I’ve already mentioned the solstice. These are days when the day has the least (winter) or most (summer) daylight. In between, we have the equinox—Spring and Fall—where there are equal parts of light and dark. This seems like an adequate metaphor for my emotions throughout the year, as well as the “seasons” of my life. As someone who is very affected by changes in light and who lives in the gray and rainy Pacific Northwest, I definitely feel my mood change with the seasons. Some of my friends have given my affected persona a nickname, “Marc after dark.” I embrace it because it’s funny, and true. Literally, as the sun sets, my mood changes.

Maybe you’re feeling similarly to me this holiday season, that is: “Meh.” I don’t really want to go caroling, do gifts, or have extra decorations. And I don’t want to just sing “Christmas songs” at church just because it’s Christmastime. I want to sing songs that have to do with the sermon text. I want to “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God” (Colossians 3:16). It’s great that for some people these things help get them into “the spirit of Christmas.” I’d prompt with gentle curiosity, “What is ‘the spirit of Christmas‘ and what leads you to believe that that feeling is what you should be pursuing?” If you mean “gratitude and joyful celebration of the birth of Jesus,” then I’m on board with you. If you just mean something more like the Swedish notion of Hygge, then I’m not down. I like that vibe—warm beverages, books, fireplaces, cozy blankets—but that’s not what Christmas is about. That’s just “cozy.”

Hygge certainly has its place — the warm blankets, the soft light, the small comforts that help us feel held for a moment. But Hygge is something I create; it depends on my effort, my environment, my ability to curate “cozy.” Holy comfort, though — the comfort that comes from Immanuel, God with us — is different in kind, not just in degree. It doesn’t rise or fall with circumstance or mood. It meets me in the ache I cannot soften and the darkness I cannot brighten. Hygge may offer a brief respite, but Immanuel offers presence: the Savior who entered our suffering, knows our grief, and stays with us even when nothing feels warm or gentle. One is a momentary balm; the other is the steady, holy nearness of the God who holds every season, including this one.

“All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet:
“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
     and they shall call his name Immanuel”
(which means, God with us).”

— Matthew 1:22-23

I have found great comfort in times of sorrow by choosing not to hate the suffering but trying, as well as I am able, to stay present in it, not seeking to escape it. To remember God’s presence with me in the suffering. To call to mind, Immanuel, God with us, and to abide with Him.

Like God’s hands holding the universe, or the Earth being totally dependent on the sun for light, I realized so much of life is out of my control. If I expect to be able to control everything or if I expect never to suffer, I’m setting myself up for deep disappointment. All my days are held in my Redeemer’s hands. While I don’t always understand or like my circumstances, I’m learning to heed the words of James: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness” (James 1:2-4). And the Apostle Paul: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction…” (2 Corinthians 1:3-7).

So what?

There is nothing wrong with Christmas trees, and lights, and cookies, and presents, and nostalgia, per se. In my life, I’ve tended toward escapism. I’ve either pined for the “good old days” or I’ve wanted Jesus to return and take me home to heaven. But both of these come from a desire to escape discomfort. I’m learning to be present. I’m learning to be faithful in the hard things right now. I’m learning to enjoy the good things, endure the hard things with hope, and to always fix my eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of my faith (Hebrews 12:2). I have to be careful not to mistake sentimentality for meaningfulness. Nostalgia doesn’t necessarily mean “better days.” In fact, I’m convinced that truly better days are ahead, not behind.

So, yeah, I’m sad and grieving the loss of my nephew and my cat. I’m feeling low because the darkest day of the year is two days away. I’m not blind or ignorant to the stress and tension and hatred out there in the world. AND, I don’t need to deny those realities or feelings in order to also acknowledge and feel the love, joy, peace, and hope that Jesus brought us in His birth. Jesus Himself said,

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

— Matthew 5:3-10

I recently read a post by Christina Meredith in which she said, “Bad times deepen our capacity to thoroughly enjoy the good times.” I immediately resonated with it, then felt shame and rejected it, and finally paused to ask why I rejected it when it resonated so closely with my experience. I came to the conclusion that the way I express my enjoyment in good times doesn’t have to look like the ways other people show their enjoyment. Some people have jokingly called me The Grinch or Scrooge. It might be partially true, but it still stings. I’m not the life of the party. I’m not loud. I’m not typically very animated. Often for me, joyful celebration looks like sitting quietly and contently, reflecting and observing. I don’t need to compare my expression of joy to others. But I do “…have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised” (Hebrews 10:36). So I think I do agree with Meredith’s assertion that bad times deepen our capacity to enjoy good times.

May light eternal shine upon them, O Lord, with Thy saints forever,
for Thou art Kind.
Eternal rest
give to them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.

Conclusion

So, to conclude this sort of meandering post on Advent, Christmas, suffering, loss, joy, and hope, I’ll just say this:

If you don’t know Jesus as your Lord and Savior, I invite you to call on His name and be saved this Advent season. And if you believed and are saved, then, whatever (not in spite of) your circumstances this season, I pray that “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all” (2 Corinthians 13:14).

Two Questions for You:

• What does joyful celebration of Christ’s birth look like for you in your current circumstances this season?
• What if it’s OK if that’s different from your previous experiences or other people’s expressions?