By Corey Fields
The accompanying picture shows the sad state of our Christmas tree this year.
It is a pre-lit tree that we purchased after our last move. It’s not so pre-lit anymore. When we put it up this year, it already had one section of lights that were out. We strategically put that section in the back.
One evening, I noticed that one section of lights had become very bright in comparison to the rest, and a few minutes later, they were out. Rinse and repeat two more times over the next few days.
Pardon the cheesy illustration, but I couldn’t help seeing this as more than a little symbolic of what can happen to us in our lives and faith, especially around this time of year. We might, at best, feel about half lit. We just burn out sometimes.
I for one have been one of those sappy Christmas people. I love this season — its music, the decorations, all that. But even for me, in recent years, I confess I’ve felt a little “less lit.” If I were in the story The Polar Express, I would still hear the bell, but it seems a little softer as of late.
There are some standard things we hear about Christmas and the struggle it can be. We see a lot of messages encouraging us to “Keep Christ in Christmas,” which, depending on who you are, could either be a call to focus on the story of Christ’s birth and live more like he would or a contentious jab at a post-Christian culture that doesn’t acknowledge our holiday to our liking. Another encouragement is to slow down, take time for family, take time for worship and not fall victim to consumerism. Very good advice, to be sure. In fact, for anyone looking to approach this season in a new way, I recommend taking a look at a movement that started in 2006 called Advent Conspiracy (www.adventconspiracy.org). It encourages us to refocus in some practical ways and calls us away from the hustle and bustle.
But what if your hustle and bustle this season has to do with getting your young son, who has just been diagnosed with cancer, to the next hospital or treatment session, all while trying to manage a growing nonprofit and take care of your other children, including one with a disability? That’s what this season has brought to one woman I know.
What if your hustle and bustle this season has to do with making funeral arrangements for your wife who died suddenly in her 40s, all while being unemployed yourself and with one child incarcerated? That’s what this season has brought to one man I know.
We’d rather talk about the easier and safer things. What do we do when we come face to face with the raw pain present in many lives? Such pain and grief may be all around us — behind us in the checkout line, in front of us at a stoplight, beside us in church.
In my living room, we also have a fireplace that we like to use in the winter. Just several feet from the artificial lights on our tree that eventually burn out is a place for God’s natural gift of light and heat that will burn for as long as it has wood and oxygen. Fire is a much more apt image and one that is used in scripture for God. Throughout centuries of Christian tradition, a simple flame on a candle has symbolized the presence of Christ. If God is indeed “a consuming fire,” it is God who provides the light; we simply allow our lives to be consumed.
I have to wonder if we sometimes have expectations of ourselves and others that are too much like the artificial lights. We’re expected to shine bright, so long as we’re plugged in. We are expected to produce our own light, and if not, we could get discarded and replaced.
But often we just can’t. We don’t. That’s not what we’re made to do.
In most settings, the four candles we light during Advent (before the white Christ candle) represent hope, peace, joy and love. It strikes me that the Advent wreath should stand in opposition to the songs, festivities and decorations that can seem like they are geared toward people who are already happy and joyous (or just need a song to get them there).
When we light the Advent candle of hope, do we light it because we all live with a sense of hope and are simply celebrating that, or do we light it especially for those who feel hopeless?
When we light the candle of peace, do we light it because we celebrate our peaceful world, or do we light it precisely because we are still desperate for peace?
When we light the candle of joy, do we do so because we’re all bubbling over, or is it lit especially for those who can’t seem to find any?
When we light the candle of love, do we not do so as a reminder that even when we feel unloved and misunderstood, the love of God “never fails” (1 Cor. 13:8)?
There was very little of such things to be had in the circumstances into which Jesus was born. Mary, Joseph and many other peasants like them quite possibly never even considered the idea that life could be different.
Just as we add wood to keep a fire going, things such as hope, peace, joy and love must be kindled and stoked. We must practice such things. We must stubbornly pursue such things. Most importantly, we must allow such things to consume and envelop our lives and resist all that would seek to snuff out these flames.
In our world, things may sometimes seem out of control. In our individual lives, loss and hardship may beat us down.
Even so, we light a candle. Even so, we fan the flame.
Merry Christmas.