It’s cold and dark these mornings.
Darkness, coldness — something our souls do well to remember.
What is it like to live without light, without warmth, without the illumination our spirits long for?
This is the posture we assume during Advent. We step into the shivering darkness of longing and the heavy quietness of waiting.
We plod into the groove tread by Christians centuries over: How long, O Lord? O come, Emmanuel!
Like weary travelers stiff on an age-old night, our eyes strain toward that glimmer, that pinprick of light. That candle in a window that means warmth and home, welcome and hearth.
This is Advent. The time when we wait, when we yearn again, when we hope anew.
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in a land of deep darkness a light has dawned” (Isaiah 9:2).
Join me this month in pacing the familiar, well-trodden ground of Advent that is marked out with Sunday signposts: December 2 (yesterday), 9, 16, and 23.