I read this quote in an online devotional the other day, and it completely captivated me. Theater is one of my favorite art forms. I was still a baby when my dad sent me out on stage for the first time–he was directing a high school production of Annie Get Your Gun, and they needed a little one to go into a papoose. I was smitten–not with acting, but with live theater.

As the child of a theater person, you go to a lot of plays. Not only did I hang out with my dad during high school play practices, but my parents always took my sister and I to at least one professional theater production each year. As a teen, I got involved in theatrical productions myself, though I preferred backstage to onstage, and as an adult I’ve done some community theater directing, too. Just as my parents took my sister and I to the theater, so we have raised our kids on Broadway musicals and community plays, continuing the legacy of love of theater as my niece made her theatrical debut this fall.

Whether you’re in the audience or behind the curtain, there’s a special kind of energy that comes as the house lights dim and a hush falls over the theater. Everyone is waiting with bated breath for the curtain to raise, and our souls are open to wonder and joy and art. The experience is all the more lovely because it is communal–we aren’t waiting alone.

If I’m being honest, I haven’t felt that sense of joyous expectation in awhile. I’ve allowed the constant press of worrisome news and hurt and suffering to weigh down my soul, and I’ve retreated too much in to the armor of cynicism. In many ways, I’ve stopped expecting God to show up.

Yet Advent is a season of hope in the darkness–a reminder that we are not abandoned or forgotten–that something bigger and better and brighter is coming. We wait together, as a people united in Christ, with souls open to receiving the Good News once more. As Buechner writes:

“What is coming upon the world is the Light of the World. It is Christ. That is the comfort of it. The challenge of it is that it has not come yet. Only the hope for it has come, only the longing for it. In the meantime we are in the dark, and the dark, God knows, is also in us. We watch and wait for a holiness to heal us and hallow us, to liberate us from the dark. Advent is like the hush in a theater just before the curtain rises. It is like the hazy ring around the winter moon that means the coming of snow which will turn the night to silver. Soon. But for the time being, our time, darkness is where we are.”

While we may live in a world of darkness, we are still called to be a people of light. It’s easy to feel helpless when you see the effects of war, injustice, sickness, poverty (which is, really, an injustice), gross disregard for humanity, inequality, and hate mongering. Sometimes it feels easier to bury our heads in the sand or snow, or to wrap our hearts in cynicism, or even shout into the darkness ourselves. But the apostle Paul admonishes us against that. In a letter to the Galatians he says:

I love this verse. It’s a reminder to keep moving forward in faith and hope–together. Let us not get tired of doing good…we will have a harvest if we don’t give up. In American culture, we value the individual, and so, our churches often stress the importance of a personal and individual relationship with Christ. And while that is important, scripture shows us time and again that the practice of faith is really about community. We live together in faith. We work together in faith. We don’t do faith alone. Well, we shouldn’t do faith alone.

Therefore, Advent is a season where we wait together and hope together and seek wonder together and bring joy together. Each year, my mother-in-law organizes a massive Christmas event for a nursing home in her community that is comprised mostly of residents who have very little to no income. She brings people from her church community together to uplift the residents of the nursing home, and to remind them that they are not alone in their darkness. It’s a ton of work, but it’s a labor of love that builds expectation and brings light to all those who participate in it.

There are so many ways we can work together to bring light to others in our dark world. But, I would argue that we can’t do it with a spirit of cynicism or despair. Just as audiences wait in hopeful expectation for the curtain to rise, so we, together, work in hopeful expectation of the light that is to come for all mankind. Maybe we grab some friends and go caroling, or make cookies together and deliver them to our neighbors. Maybe we commit to going to church and worshiping with others each Sunday in Advent, or attend a special community Christmas service. Maybe we take some time to spend with our families doing something fun and silly, or leave anonymous notes or treats for our co-workers. There’s so much we can do!

This Advent, I’m choosing wonder and joy. I’m choosing to reach out in community to uplift others. I’m choosing to not grow weary, for I know that the harvest celebration is coming. What about you?

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

As Advent is fully upon us once more, I thought this repost from 2016 an appropriate expression of the hope we yearn for this season. As Jesus told his disciples so long ago…the light has come, and darkness cannot put it out.

Wishing you warmth and light this season…

“Do you know where the gloves got put?”

“Which box is our comforter in?”

“Do I have any pants?”

These are the questions I field at least once a week since we moved in June.  With each request, I go searching through the house–looking into random closets, digging into partially opened tubs and boxes and rummaging around shelves I can’t see the tops of.  Eventually I find that pants are on top of a dresser, the comforter is in a vacuum sealed bag and gloves, well, it’s not that cold yet.

The searching in our house these past few months has been reflected in my spirit, too.  I seem stuck in a cycle of perpetual searching.  I’m searching to find my place in a new community, searching to define myself as an author, searching to establish myself in a new career, and even searching to figure out who I am now that I’m 40.

I have to be honest, searching for gloves, comforters and pants is a lot easier.

I feel like, after a season of mountaintop living, I have been thrust back into the wilderness.  I’m trying to find the light of God’s leading, but there are no bushes ablaze around me.  There’s no pillar of fire going before me into the darkness pointing east or west.  There’s just me kicking up sand and wondering if I’ve passed this rock before.

Lent has traditionally been the time for wilderness wanderings; however, Advent finds us in the wilderness, too.   Jesus didn’t enter into a world festooned with mistletoe and holly.  He entered humanity in a time of violence, fear, uncertainty and injustice.  He came when people were seeking a light to dispel the darkness of poverty, injustice and oppression.  He came when people were seeking hope.

The world hasn’t changed much since Jesus first came.  We might string mistletoe and holly more freely around our homes, but there is still violence, still fear, still uncertainty, still injustice.  Like the people of Jesus’ time, we are still seeking a light to dispel the darkness of the world around us.

Advent provides us with the opportunity to wait, in hopeful expectation, for the Light of the World to come.  And come he will, because he’s always been there.

In the beginning was the Word
and the Word was with God
and the Word was God.
The Word was with God in the beginning.
Everything came into being through the Word,
and without the Word
nothing came into being.
What came into being
through the Word was life,[a]
and the life was the light for all people.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light. John 1:1-5 (CEB)

Whatever you find yourself searching for this Advent, embrace the uncertainty of finding it.  Give yourself over to God’s work in your life.  Wait in hopeful expectation for the Light that was, is and will come.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara