Light Piercing Darkness

Monday night we pre-recorded our Christmas Eve service and as I walked over to the church I looked up at the sky trying to see the Bethlehem star that was supposed to show up.

You’ve probably heard about it or seen it on the news. This astronomical event hasn’t happened in 800 years and there was a lot of talk about how Jupiter and Saturn were coming so close together that they resembled a single light. I was excited and had told the congregation to look for it, but Monday night the sky was cloudy and overcast. I couldn’t even see the moon let alone a single bright star. And then as I made my way home again I forgot to take another look. Someone from church texted to ask if I’d seen it and I was already in my pjs.

As I’ve thought about this, it occurs to me that many people are like me that night. We’re desperate to see light breaking through, to see a sign of God’s goodness in a world of grey and damp and dark. And sometimes we’re so focused on getting home after a long day or the burdens we’re carrying that we forget to even look up. We’re so glued to our handheld devices and tvs and other screens that we’re often looking in the wrong place for the reassurance we truly need.

I was so glad that my facebook feed was filled with pictures of the Bethlehem star taken by people who didn’t have overcast skies. They shared the brilliant light piercing the darkness and convinced me that it truly had happened. I just couldn’t see it. Around the world people took it in and on the longest night of the year, the solstice, the light shone on us. It’s truly an amazing thing.

Covid-19 has been a really long, dark night for many people. We’re getting ready to celebrate the Christ child coming to us, God in human flesh, vulnerable and divine. For many, including worship leaders, it may be tough to see the brilliance of the light of Christ when we’re exhausted, frustrated and sad that this Christmas by necessity has to keep us distant from the people we love - our church families, our friends and our own families. It can be hard to remember to look up, to welcome the light and to know that its coming means the world to us.

I’m so grateful to those who are able to see the light and share it. I’m grateful that even if I’m not always remembering to look for it, the light still comes and shines on all of us. No matter what kind of year we’ve had, how good a job we feel we’ve done at life and our work and ministry in this time, the light still comes. No matter how worried or anxious we are or how much we’re celebrating the vaccines being rolled out, the light still comes.

I pray that even in this very different celebration of Christmas that perhaps is simpler and stripped away, just like the simplicity of the birth of Christ in that stable, that we will remember to look up, and to trust that the clouds are lifting, and that the light is shining on us.

Merry Christmas!