Chaplain’s Column
With this, our first Christmas in Corpus Christi, I was forming a beautiful vision of our house, warmly decorated and brightly lit. It faces out from the end of our street, perfectly positioned to welcome people to the neighborhood with the light and joy of the season.
The day after Thanksgiving, while others were battling Black Friday crowds, I would be installing this beacon of hope and peace.
Then reality hit. While I was preparing the lights, before my first step up the ladder, I looked down at my feet to see them covered in fire ants from a hill that I had stepped on – and knew that I was in for a week of nasty pain and itching.
Over the next couple of days, the tiny internal fuse on the lights blew three times – each time requiring more trips up the ladder and reconfiguration of the lights. And in the wee hours that first Sunday of Advent season, a violent stomach bug hit me – making a mess of the hope I was so eager to share in chapel.
These were all little things. They do not compare with the pain that some feel during the holiday season. For some, it is their first Christmas away from home. Others may be facing illness or financial trouble. Some are grieving lost loved ones, broken relationships, or disappointments in their lives or careers.
In any number of ways, sorrow, frustration or pain can invade this season that we suppose should be “merry and bright.”
In those moments, we do well to remember: that is the point of the lights. They only make sense when it is dark.
The darkness in our lives can take many forms, but the consistent thread is this: Our world is not what it should be. We face physical trials – from fire ants, to disease, or to violence and death itself. We face frustration of our plans – from electrical fuses, to collapses of a career.
We face emotional traumas – from a missed chapel service, to a shattered marriage. We know, deep in our spirits, that this is not how life should be.
It is in being honest about that darkness, that we can understand the power of Christmas light. God does not deny our darkness, but comes to us in the middle of it. God does not diminish our pain, our sorrow or even our evil.
Instead, this season assures us that God understands it, yet refuses to leave us alone in its grip. The season celebrates a God who meets sorrow with hope; meets hatred with peace; meets failure with forgiveness; and meets emptiness with perfect love.
Despite the difficulties, the lights are on at my house; and yes, they are a bright beacon from way down the street. Seeing them, I am reminded that light always wins over darkness. Hope, peace, love and joy are stronger than fire ants and stomach flu.
Whatever your darkness this season, I wish you the beauty of finding it pierced by the bright light of God’s presence and love.