My wonderfully insightful friend Jeff Nelson has been
recording a daily Advent video reflection. He’s encouraging others to join in
his conversation – this is my response.
Each year, I struggle to journey through the dual realities
of Advent: what it is and what it should be. I suppose I’m seeking to find
where those two sides of Advent overlap. And how that overlap might change my
understanding of what the event of Christmas was and who the person of Christ
is.
As each day draws me nearer to Christmas, I find that my
heart is just a little more open, just a little more vulnerable, just a little
more willing to see the joy and beauty and simplicity of a world that welcomes
babies every day. And also a little more easily hurt, a little more easily
broken. Sometimes in the midst of the hurt, I can’t see beyond that. But God
isn’t breaking my heart, God is opening my heart.
If broken is what Advent is then open is what Advent should
be.
I’m in the midst of reading and teaching from Adam
Hamilton’s book, “The Journey”. He includes a DVD segment each week filmed on
location in Bethlehem, Nazareth, and the surrounding countryside. Nine
months ago I stood in the same places that I see in his video footage. I walked
alongside the same buildings and looked into the same scenes.
What I learned from being on the ground of that place is
that it is not so different from any other place. It is not covered in the
shadow of angels’ wings or the soft sparkle of star light. There are wise men,
but also dumb men and mean men and just average men. There are new mothers and
old mothers, scared mothers and those who would be mothers. It is an every day
kind of place where families have lived for generations. For these people, in
this place, the Holy Land is not a place to deepen
a theology but a place to find a husband, to build a home, to build a life.
If miraculous is what Advent was then normal and everyday is
what Advent should be.
As I wrote about last week, I find the joy of Christmas is
often overshadowed by long hours and impossible expectations. Some of us in
ministry – myself included – are the worst offenders. We pick and prod at each
other, complaining about lighting and greeters and poinsettia arrangements. The
season should thrill us with excitement and energy. But we seem to spend most
of our time exhausted.
In the last three years, I’ve watched three close friends each
experience the joy, surprise, and pain of pregnancy. In each circumstance, the
waiting and expectation began long before a pregnancy was confirmed. Each one
spent months, even years, praying for a child, hoping for a future full of new
life. These women have taught me that our time of waiting and our desire for
new life often begins before we even know what we’re waiting for. And often
continues long after we’ve prayed and wished and begged for it to become
reality.
If desperate is how Advent leaves us feeling then hope is
what Advent should inspire us to seek.
From one seeker to another – don’t allow the bright lights
of Christmas to drown out that more important inner light that Advent provides.
The wisemen, the shepherds, the seekers and the dreamers who sought a baby they
hoped would be king didn’t do so because all the stars in the heavens pointed
the way. They sought one star, one direction, one truth. They sought a
difficult and winding path because of the light in their own hearts.
Be merry. Be joyful and full of laughter. Rejoice in the
bright reality of Christmas. But also keep your heart open, live simply and
have hope that the true shining light at the summit of the season is a light
that remains in you always.
Faith. Hope. Love. But the greatest of these is love.
