By 
Christmas. Just that one word can evoke images, feelings, and memories as unique and varied as the individuals that have them. Time honored traditions, the presence of family, beautiful decorations, copious amounts of lights strung from one end of homes to the other, and the strains of Christmas carols find their place in our celebration of the season. Words like “peace”, “joy”, and “hope” are emblazoned on cards, sweatshirts, and billboards, as stacks of glittering packages, hustling shoppers, and the tireless neighborhood Santa usher in this time we most often refer to as “merry”.
One of my childhood traditions of Christmas was an Advent calendar. Typically, it was a Christmas scene, displayed on cardboard with 25 paper flaps, one to be lifted each day revealing new detail of the illustration. I remember the excitement of lifting those final few flaps, completing the picture but also heralding the arrival of Christmas Day! All was bright and cheerful and full of expectation.
Now, as an adult, I prepare for Christmas a little differently. One of my practices is to tailor my reading and Bible study more toward the Christmas season. Recently I began to read from Fleming Rutledge’s Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ.
I had not gotten far into my reading when I encountered this line: “Advent begins in the dark.” The phrase caught my attention completely, and I found myself reading it over and over as I ruminated on its meaning. It seemed antithetical to the focus of culture and even the church during this time. The simple, bare statement pushed through a lifetime of thoughts and experiences and introduced a different perspective on the coming season.
The word Advent is derived from the Latin word adventus, “coming”. It’s a hopeful, expectant word involving waiting and preparation. In Advent we look back and celebrate the anniversary of Christ’s birth, and we look forward, anticipating and preparing our hearts and minds for His second coming. The church lives between two Advents: Jesus has come; Jesus will come.
“Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison.
Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy.”*
Advent takes place during the longest and darkest part of the year. Israel had experienced a long, hard season. The faithful had been waiting for hundreds of years, through prophetic silence and the seeming absence of God, for the promised Messiah.
You meet him who joyfully works righteousness, those who remember you in your ways. Behold, you were angry, and we sinned; in our sins we have been a long time, and shall we be saved? We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. There is no one who calls upon your name, who rouses himself to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have made us melt in the hand of our iniquities.
—Isaiah 64:5-7 (ESV)
Even in God’s silence, they faithfully called out to Him. In His absence, they acknowledged His presence. Despite appearances, faith teaches us that we can trust that God is with us.
“The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come.” —Dietrich Bonhoeffer
We are in a dark and hard time. What appears around me is heart-breaking. Selfishness, violence, poverty, and injustices are everywhere I turn. Accounts of horrible, evil acts perpetrated by humans on other humans, with complete disregard to their inherent value as image bearers, bring me to my knees. And, like Israel, I cry out: “Where are you God?”
“In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.”**
Tish Harrison Warren says, “To practice Advent is to lean into an almost cosmic ache: our deep, wordless desire for things to be made right and the incompleteness we find in the meantime.”
This is where I find myself. The ache is deep, and the desire for rightness is strong. I long for peace and I long for home. Yet, in the absence of God I know His presence. His Spirit, dwelling in me, strengthens the faith that allows me to look expectantly for that future grace, given generously from the hands of my Heavenly Father. With the birth of Jesus, the Father brought light into the darkness. But that was just the beginning. He is coming again to break through this present darkness with His glory.
John 1:5 (ESV): The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
“Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.”**
Yes, Advent begins in the darkness. But it will not stay there. And neither will we.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.”
—Revelation 21:4-5 (ESV)
*A brief responsive prayer used as the first item in the Ordinary of the Roman Catholic Mass or in any of various other Christian liturgies.
**In the Bleak Midwinter, Susan Boyle, Public Domain Compositions
Nanette Smith
A transplanted Texan, Nanette Smith spent most of her life in western Pennsylvania where she and her husband Tom raised their 6 children. When not homeschooling her children or helping her husband run his construction business, Nanette volunteered with Samaritan’s purse, crisis pregnancy centers, and served as Women’s Ministry Director. In 2013 God moved Nanette and her family to Texas and she attended her first Womenary class in 2016. Currently Nanette works as the Missions Coordinator at Mobberly Baptist Church in Longview, TX. When not working or playing with one of her 11 grandchildren, Nanette enjoys reading, writing, photography and baking. 
