Advent: light in our darkness

Image by Alexandr from Pixabay

The winter sun hangs low in the sky. The trees have shed their leaves, their beauty stripped bare against pale clouds. The earth is leached of her colours – the winter hues of grey and brown dominate, with some green and a scattering of scarlet berries like drops of blood. We hunker down and wish we could hibernate, as the animals do.

The whole world seems to be locked into winter mode. Everywhere we see wars and hear rumours of wars. There is a rising tide of injustice and inequality. So many shrill voices, harsh voices, directing the reins of power. Our capacity as humans to be able to destroy our own future, our own planet, our own souls, looms over us.

Advent is not a cosy, comforting season but a stark, penitential one. Whereas Christmas is about the First Advent of Jesus, Advent looks forward to his Second. The Scripture passages in Advent are confronting and challenging: clarion calls for justice from the prophets, dark warnings of judgment, Jesus telling his disciples to get ready, stay awake, be alert.

There is light in Advent too, the light of hope, the hope of a better world. Like the piercing purity of a winter sunrise, brilliant pinks and golds streaking the sky as the planet turns and the sun comes again to lighten our darkness, so we look to the Son of Righteousness who will rise with healing in his rays (Malachi 4:2).

The meaning of the Greek word ‘apocalypse’ – the literal title of the book of Revelation – is ‘to uncover, reveal, lay bare, or disclose’. As we watch various public enquiries into grave miscarriages of justice, abuse scandals, and failings by government, we know that abuse of power can be uncovered and laid bare, with no hiding place left.

‘For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open.’ Luke 8:17

‘Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.’ Hebrews 4:13

As Christian writers, we can balance lament with hope in our different ways. You don’t have to write dystopia in order to do that, although I admire all of you who write in that genre (it’s a genre I can appreciate, even when it’s disturbing). It is right to agonise over, protest about and advocate for people suffering under oppression or enduring the terror of war. I don’t think we should minimise the darkness and how it affects us all – but we do have ultimate hope in Christ, who promises us that he is coming back to make everything new, and that the meek will inherit the earth.

So this Advent, look up and beyond, because your redemption – and the liberation of the whole earth – is drawing near. (Luke 21:28)

I’m an Anglican lay minister and work full-time for the United Reformed Church as Administrator for their education and learning office. I wrote a devotional for the anthology Light for the Writer’s Soul, published by Media Associates International, and my short story ‘Magnificat’ appears in the ACW anthology Merry Christmas Everyone