Meditations During Advent: The Light Is Trying To Reach Us

I think of Christmas as the “extrovert” of the church calendar.

It is social and busy. It is loud and flashy and well-fed and adorned. It’s beautiful and charismatic and has the most wonderful story to tell. Christmas is the guest everyone is eagerly watching for. We’re looking out the window, checking our watches, and clamoring to the door as it finally pulls into the driveway. It’s here!


Personally, I have always loved the season of Advent. It is the “introvert” of the church calendar.

Advent is expectant and full of hope. There is a solemn quality to the waiting; something grounded and okay with the stillness. The waiting itself feels sacred.

It is a patient season. Advent asks us to make peace with the lingering and reminds us that we can. It gently shows us again that there can be deep joy in that in-between place. Advent resets the church as a space for holy listening.

How can I create a place in my life - simple, open, warm, stilled - that is prepared to receive the smallest, humblest, most vulnerable version of divinity when it comes quietly knocking at my door?

We light candles in the early dark, sing songs, talk about the “never stopping, never giving up, unbreaking, always and forever love” of God. We ask God for new eyes to see the miracle that intentionally makes its home in the midst of our daily mess.

The early darkness of Advent does not come from a different place than light; it is not presided over by a different God. The long nights of Advent and the early morning light of Christmas both point us toward the God for whom darkness and light are alike. Both are fertile seasons for those who walk by faith and not by sight.

I have always been mesmerized by a candle’s flame, slowly bowing back and forth. It feels like it is reaching for me. The light is trying to reach me.

 

- The Rev. Dr. Bruce Grob