into darkness {He is light}

It is December and there are sparkling lights and upbeat Christmas songs with bells keeping time.  They tell us to wrap it up, put a bow on it: be merry and bright.  It’s a time to gather with family, to enjoy traditions and show our love in tangible ways, bestowing gifts of fun and fancy.

And yet.

It is dark, here.  There is unspeakable sadness in this world.  There is heartache every day, and injustices this wide world over.  People are starving, dying of sickness, fighting in wars, losing to slavery, alone on the streets, victims of violence.  Today, it is the school shooting in Connecticut.  Children killed.  This darkness can weigh heavy on my heart, on my mind.  I try to twist the story lines into something that makes sense, and I end up turning mental gymnastics because here’s the thing: it doesn’t make sense.  Long lay this world, in sin and error pining.

It is dark.

And yet.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned”(Isaiah 9:2).

In this epic true life fairy tale, the battle has already been won.  Good will always win.  Light has overcome darkness.  On this quiet night, years ago, Light himself was born into this dark world – Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.  The truth was proclaimed: “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord”  (Luke 2:11).  And the angels sang Glory to God, and the shepherds were invited into the mystery and then told their story.  Kings fell on their knees, offering  gifts with worship.

Sometimes it’s the mere melancholy that the longest night brings.  Sometimes its this longest night that has lasted years.  Sure, Christmas can be about family, traditions, even the good work of giving.  And family is good – until it isn’t anymore.  Tradition works, until it doesn’t anymore.  Celebration, joyous music, good food, presents — it’s all good, until it’s not.  If all your hope is in family, if all your joy is in the twinkling lights, if it’s all held together by tradition – then what do you do when you lose family? When there are no more twinkling lights? Or when it just can’t be held together anymore?  This darkness, it’s wearisome.

For yonder breaks, a new a glorious morn.

The story is not over.  “Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). We have this hope, He gives us His peace – that when there is suffering, when there is heartache and tragedy, and our eyes can’t see the light – we know that the Light sees us.  Emmanuel, God with us. In the darkness of despair, He is right beside us.  We can know His light, hold it out to each other. So we pray. We hold hands. We make meals.

No more let sin or sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground.  Today, amidst the unspeakable, we speak.  Our large world seems small as we come together to bear witness to the pain in the shooting.  We honor the stories of those who are living this.  Today, “we weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). God with us, grieving alongside us. He comes to make His blessings known, far as the curse is found.

We share the stories of the brokenness within each of our lives, taking turns walking for one another.  We sit in the sadness together, we cry together.  This night, we come alongside my mother-in-law, grieving through her first Christmas without her husband.  We cannot replace her sadness, but we fill her house with something else: this   food and kids and laughter – it is light.  It is in this darkness that He became Light.  Truly He taught us to love one another; His law is love and His gospel is peace. In this world, we offer grace and love to all, and coats and shoes to those without.  We are the peacemakers, blessed.

Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices. Oh, night divine.

And yet – in Him there is no darkness.

the christians and the pagans

So the Christians and the Pagans sat together at the table, 

Finding faith and common ground the best that they were able, 

Lighting trees in darkness, learning new ways from the old, and 

Making sense of history and drawing warmth out of the cold.
Dar Williams, The Christians and The Pagans 

I’ve had this post bumbling in my head for a bit now, and though my head feels a bit mush-like these days, I thought it better to try to spit it out anyhow.  Something about being so very pregnant, mixed with the potential-crazy of the holiday season, and some good old fashion family drama has rendered my brain next to useless.  All apologies.

Santa comes to our house.  We’ve written letters.  We entice him with cookies, milk, and reindeer food.  We listen intently for bells, and wonder how he gets into our house without a chimney. We’ve read “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas” countless times this year, and even the Littlest knows pieces by heart.

But before you cast your scorn in my direction, and suggest that we are missing the mark of Christmas, let me also tell you that my Little Ones clearly know why we celebrate this season, and Santa isn’t it.  They know that Advent is for preparing our hearts, waiting for our Rescuer.  Together we have been anticipating the birth of our Lord, and they can tell you with truth and sincerity about the shepherds, the angels, the wise men and the star.  And with quiet wonder, they can tell of the Christ-child born to us.

I don’t think that this is a case of either/or.  We sing all sorts of songs: ancient hymns with powerful, spiritual lyrics, sung by the sweetest little voices, as well as jolly jingles about Santa, his elves and reindeer. In our house, we celebrate the birth of Christ, but we welcome Santa Claus, too.  There is too much magic in all of Christmas, every bit of it, and I don’t want my Little Ones to miss out.  They have the rest of their lives to be expected to be rational, logical, and straight-forward.  I want their childhoods to be filled with fantasy and fun.  I’m not about to be the Grinch for them.  I know that my Little Ones have the God-given capacity to  figure out what is True and what is fun.  I don’t worry that I’ll have polluted their own intuitive ability by making Santa a  part of our tradition, too.  I heard someone say that if her daughter wants a present she knows to ask Santa, and if she wants something in her heart, she knows to ask Jesus.  And this was a four-year old she was talking about!  I’m certain that we don’t give our kids enough credit sometimes.  Santa weighs the naughty/nice balance; Jesus doles out the Grace.

And, yes, I’ve heard all the arguments about Christ not even being born at this time of year, but instead in the Spring, and how the Christmas tree was part of the Pagan Winter Solstice tradition.  And I’m glad that we’ve appropriated these things — that we’ve incorporated bits and pieces from other traditions and made them part of our Christian story.  Who doesn’t need something to celebrate at this time of year?  The Winter Solstice marks the longest night, the darkest day, and I’m thankful that we have chosen a reason to gather as family, to light candles and say prayers, and to welcome Light himself in the midst of this darkness.  I don’t want to wait until the Spring.  There is plenty to celebrate then — and our own Christian calendar reflects this no more so than in forlorn Lent and then joyous Easter.

This time of year can become so complicated.  So many different traditions are being celebrated, with just as many variations within them.  Instead of creating lines between them, I’d rather recognize the ways in which these holidays can bring us together: sharing in joyous feasts and celebrations, giving to others out of the blessings we’ve been given, embracing those in need of an embrace, and offering Hope in places of Hopelessness.  There is Magic in all of that.  Jesus-Magic and Santa-Magic.

Elizabeth Esther writes a bit more about why she believes in Santa, and fairies and elves:  you can find her here.  

“To embrace the mystery without needing to unveil it, explain it, understand it.  I’ve made it safe for them to be wonderstruck and awestruck and to hear sleigh bells on the roof.”  Elizabeth Esther

And while we’re at it — what about talking snowmen? Or flying reindeer?