Christmas races toward us while the world and all its wearying ways continue to spin around us. The busier we are, the more likely our spiritual rhythms give way to our growing to-do lists and gnawing pangs of loss. No matter what vies for our attention, it’s up to us to resolve where our gazes rest.
Not unlike Adam and Eve, we have a choice in the matter.
After their expulsion from Eden, humanity lived within the curse’s bounds of eternal darkness.1 The only hope for rescue was for God to shine on His light on the world. So, it’s our great blessing, living on this side of the cross, that we’ve been given a great Light – a Deliverer from evil (Matthew 4:16; 6:13). And so it is that by choosing light for ourselves, we walk by faith, believing the Light has come to dispel the darkness. We live in His light and are purified by it (1 John 1:7).
All the while, darkness lurks. Prowls. Waits…
We’ve landed on another tension of Advent, one that’s been hinted at since we began this Advent series – the constant pull between darkness and light.2 On one side of the tug-of-war, for those of us who know the Light, our hope is certain. Darkness has not, will not, overcome the Light (John 1:5). Yet, as humans who exist with weakness and the drawing forces of flesh, we know too well the tugs that come from the shadows that taunt and tantalize.
Living in the tension of darkness and light may be our plight, but darkness never has to be our reality.
In our search for a thrill of hope this Christmas season, we determine whether or not we’ll plop our bodies into a position of stillness, plant our feet on the solid ground packed around that cradle of Holy Night renown, and peer at that wiggling, warm Wonder to discover the gift wrapped in swaddling cloths as proof of promises kept.
If not, we fixate on the darkness.
Led by Light
Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming
Here come the Wise Men from Orient land
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger
In all our trials born to be our friend
He knows our need, to our weakness is no stranger
Behold your King; before Him lowly bend
Behold your King; before Him lowly bend3
Though surrounded by the pitchiness of night, the brand-new parents of the newly born King of Kings knew only light as a single star shimmered overhead and their own hearts glowed. The inky-black desert skies above the shepherds blazed brilliantly as angels hearkened them to listen about a babe in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger – Christ the Lord! And foreign kings followed that solitaire star as they traveled night after night to see this miracle baby.
The picture painted for us in this manger scene is one of light piercing darkness. Or, as Robert Louis Stevenson once declared, standing in awe as street lamps were lit at dusk, the light is “punching holes in the darkness.”4 Friends, whether we see light as piercing or punching or barely casting a glow, it always overtakes the dark.
As such, the night of our dear Savior’s birth becomes for us a foreshadow of the way His life and death, His resurrection and ascension would cause light to break-in on and overcome the darkness of the world (John 16:33). Then and now.
Like those shepherds and wisemen, we can choose to be led by the light of faith in order to stand beside our Savior, absorbing His hope-giving goodness, allowing His love to expel all fear and faltering faith, all doubt and despair.
Perhaps it startles us to think the power of light rests in our choice to be led by faith. But that’s not the most shocking bit of truth. Madeleine L’Engle explains, “Like it or not, we either add to the darkness of indifference and out-and-out evil which surround us, or we light a candle to see by.”5 That’s worth stopping and rereading. That’s worth our energy and effort because as we reflect on her words, we’ll begin to see how everything we say and do comes from a choice to be led by the light of faith, or not.
So when Jesus tells us that we are the light of the world, commanding us to let our light shine (Matthew 5:14,16), He’s exhorting us to light our candles! I picture us tilting ourselves like Christmas Eve tapers toward the flame of the Light until we catch fire in the midst of a dark space. With one flame, light punches in. And as other candles glow around us, darkness is completely pushed away.
One flame matters. It casts enough light to invite and inspire others to lean in – and ignite. Which is why “together we must cling to the truth that the light of Christ will have the last word. This is our communal hope.”6
Behold and Bend
The lyrics of our second stanza of “O Holy Night” beckon us to linger as we arrive at the manger. We’re not meant to be passersby – or rushing tourists checking off of our must-see-list a site that will only make it onto our social media feed rather than in our hearts. We’re meant to behold the wonder of the baby who has brought light into the dark world.
We’re meant to bend over the feeding trough, getting low on our knees. Getting lowly – just as Messiah did by leaving His throne in heaven to become the baby of humble Jewish parents from back-water Nazareth.
Lowliness, however, is not a beating-up-of-self for weaknesses and transgressions. That baby in the manger reminds us that He came for us – in grace. To forgive us. He came so that we might have the kind of abundant life that knows freedom and joy, peace and hope (John 10:10).
Getting lowly is humbling ourselves – it’s a naming of our weaknesses and confessing our sins so that we remember He is on the throne and we are not. It’s a trusting of His provision, His goodness, His love. It’s recognizing that we are the ones who tend to cower in shame as our weaknesses come out of the dark corners of our soul-closets – not Him. He already knows. And He loves us anyway. In fact, He loves us so much that He longs for us to be un-bound. It’s why He came to earth. Laid in a trough. Hung on a cross.
It’s only with our open-fisted, wide-eyed turning toward the light – led by faith – that we can truly, freely behold the King of Kings in the lowly manger. And find our hope.
Father God, You are the greatest gift-giver ever. Unselfish in your motives, generous in your actions, unfailing in your grace, You have given us Light that pushes back the darkness that has long desired to devour us. Even when we’ve chosen poorly and given into weakness, You’ve remained unchanging. You’ve remained steadfast in your love and kindness and patience. You’ve given us Jesus – the great Light who shines in us and on us! Lord Jesus, we turn toward your light and watch with awe as it punches holes in the dark – as your glory fills the skies and triumphs over the shades of night.* Come, long awaited One, in the fullness of your love and loose our hearts that are bound by shame. Here we wait in hope of You.* Here we wait in hope of You! Holy Spirit, it’s by your presence and power that we have all we need to keep choosing the Light. Thank You for walking alongside us, dwelling within us through every dark night, and helping us remain in the Light that leads us by faith. Thank You for rejoicing with us in our victories – big and small. Thank You for never leaving, never giving up, never forgetting us. We long to behold our King, today and everyday! In His gloriously bright name we pray, amen.
(inspired by Philippians 2:5-8; 2 Corinthians 9:8, 12:9; Isaiah 9:2; Malachi 3:6; Deuteronomy 7:9; Psalm 118:27; John 1:5, 8:12; *Christy Nockels’ “Advent Hymn;” Ephesians 3:16; Romans 8:26; Luke 1:44,47,67-69; John 14:16)
Resources: I love sharing with you the books, podcasts, articles, and anything else that has inspired, encouraged, or taught me. These are humble offerings with no expectations.
- 1 – Sarah Wanck’s point in her Advent series on the Wake Up Call, 12/22/22
- 2 – Another Sarah Wanck idea laid out in her Advent series on the Wake Up Call, 12/8/22
- 3 – Our lyrics today may not be familiar to most of us because they comes from the rarely sung second stanza. I found a fabulous choir who sings all three stanzas!
- 4 – Billy Graham recounts the story in this article.
- 5 – Biographer, Sarah Arthur, quotes Madeleine L’Engle in her book A Light So Lovely^
- 6 – Sarah Arthur’s own quote in the same book as above
- There’s a song on our Advent playlist, A Thrill of Hope, that catches my ear every single time it plays — even when I’m deep in thought writing: Christy Nockels’ “Advent Hymn.” It ‘happened’ to be playing as I typed out this week’s prayer, and its lyrics quickly wove themselves into it. When the song concluded, I replayed it at least two more times — just lingering in worship. I invite you to do the same.
- The second issue of The Abiding Life Newsletter hit inboxes the first week of December. If you’re not receiving them yet — and would like to — you can subscribe here. If you have any questions, email me. I’m so excited for this new way of engaging with you. XOXO
- On Wednesdays I’ve begun posting 5-7 minute teaching videos on my Facebook Author Page and Instagram (@shelleylinnjohnson).
Rhythms: As my newsletter’s title infers, we seek to develop an abiding life in this space — a place where we can get informed but also be transformed as we learn to abide in God’s presence throughout our days. I like to think that developing rhythms is what aids us in our desire to become more Christlike.
- Just as “O Holy Night” encourages us to do — this Advent we’re focusing on remaining in the rhythm of stillness, carving out time each day to be with the Lord even if it looks different each day. Have you noticed the song on our playlist called “Still Still Still?” It’s a lullaby-like reminder to get still before the Lord, like all the earth. THEN, the lyrics shift from stillness to LIGHT! “Light, light, light — let all the earth be in light!” Stillness and light — there’s a connection we may not have put together till now!
- Finally, as a community, let us not neglect sharing God’s hope with others! Share your God-stories with people around you. Share this site. Share God’s Word. Shine His light of His hope into the world!
Featured Photo by Josh Boot on Unsplash. “All the Bits and Pieces” photo by Yana Gorbunova on Unsplash.
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