While Advent comprises four weeks with four themes, my heart tends to get stuck in week one - hope. Probably because hope seems to be the theme not only of the first week of Advent but of my life. I was 19 and had yet to know the kind of heartbreak that makes hope essential when I had the word greek word for hope, “Elpis” tattooed on my wrist. It was like my spirit knew that I would need hope seared into my soul if I was to survive the loss of my firstborn child and an ongoing estrangement from my brother when I wrote it on my skin.
The simplest definition of hope is a fundamental desire for things to get better. We hope we can make ends meet. We hope our marriages will improve. We hope that the next promotion or new job will finally bring fulfillment. We hope our kids will come back around.
Hope is wishful thinking.
But for those of us who know Jesus, our hope is not based on the probability that things will turn around and circumstances improve but the promise of a person who makes things new.
It’s so easy during the holiday season to use the lights, the music, the events, and the shopping to numb out and disengage from the pain of living. To put on our holiday best, our biggest smiles and pretend that our lives are tied up in a sparkly bow. But as Meredith Miller reminds us, “Christmas is not here to offer a four-week escape from the pain of the world with a paper-thin layer of twinkle lights. It is not here to anesthetize us with bows and eggnog lattes. Christmas is not offering us the chance to escape the ache of life through piles of presents. Christmas is God saying, “Yes, this pain is too much. Yes, it is too sad. Yes, the ache is too great. Hang on. I’ll come carry it with you.”
And carry it with us he does in the person of Jesus. Jesus, who was not born into a world full of light and easy joy, but who brought the light (well, WAS the light) into a world full of darkness and pain.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” Isaiah 9:2
It doesn’t take more than a quick glance across the globe (and possibly just across the street or even in the mirror) to see that the people are walking in darkness. Pain and brokenness abound. But do not dismay, beloved, the Messiah is on his way.
Wherever you find yourself today, advent is an invitation. An invitation just for you.
If you’re struggling, if this Christmas season is painful and the joy feels elusive, advent is for you. It’s a reminder that Hope isn’t just a cute word for decorative pillows, but a hard-won hope is born in the darkness.
If all is merry and bright, advent is for you. It’s an invitation to remember that even when the world is shiny and the lights are twinkling, it is but a glimmer of the joy and the glory to come.
If like the the majority of us, your life holds both joy and pain, and an awful lot of the ordinary and menotonous, advent is for you. Advent meets us on the road, heading to the next place. Advent makes space for the regular rhythm of life - the doing of dishes and the making of beds.
Advent is the in-between. The knowledge that Christ has both come and is still yet to come. Advent is the anticipation of the promise that will come. The light that will break through. The dancing that comes after weeping.
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