Monday, December 17, 2018

Christmas in the Dark

Candles and lights aren't just pretty, they're pretty symbolic

While I have seldom put up lots of Christmas lights outside, and been pretty "simple" (others might say "lame") when I have, I do appreciate the beauty of them. I can look out my back windows and see an illuminated pond and a couple houses with radiant and colorful lights. Looking down my street I can see more such houses, including lights along a VERY long driveway. They are beautiful

We will have our Candlelight Christmas Eve Service this Sunday night, and I always look forward to the end where we light our candles and dim the other lights--the beauty of that moment is moving to me. And other than the wax drippings making life harder on our cleaning crew, everyone seems to enjoy it as I do.

The large number of light displays we see go far beyond the number of people who may understand what they mean. That is true with many of the elements of our culture's more secular observances of Christmas. They have manger scenes, but don't understand their significance. They sing "Hark, the Herald Angels Sing" (a very theologically rich carol) but pay little attention to ideas of being given "second birth" by the "incarnate Deity." And they put up all sorts of lights without understanding the historical and theological content.

Tim Keller reminded me of this in his book, Hidden Christmas. Our celebrations took their shape in the Mediterranean world, where late December has the shortest and darkest days. Lights didn't just add beauty, they made it possible to see! Large numbers of lights would make the darkness diminish--in some cases overcoming it temporarily. And this is the idea behind Christmas lights. Isaiah 9:2-9 tells us about people walking in darkness. That is a terrible position to be in. I've had a few walks in pitch dark, moonless nights and I gained a few bruises on some of those occasions. The darkness in Isaiah's context was spiritual, and is described in chapter 8 as turning our gaze earthward rather than heavenward--looking for "light" in the wisdom of other teachings and religions made by people."  The promise of chapter 9 was that a day would come where a great light would shine. This light is revealed in verses 6-7 as a child born, a son given, who would be "wonderful counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Everything would change for the better through seeing him.

We know this Child has come--He is the light that enlightens people, and that cannot be overcome by darkness--a great light indeed (see John 1). And Christmas candles and lights are silent but visible testimony to the coming of the great light in the great darkness--a light that brings hope and life to the world.

You cannot grasp the significance of Christmas until you realize that you live in a dark world, and that any ideas you may have about finding light or creating your own light are not only wrong, but deadly. Many people simply prefer darkness since it lets them hide their own shame (John 3:19). But faith in Jesus means that we realize that he is "the light of the world. Whoever follows [him] will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12).

Let the lights and candles remind you not just of the darkness around them, but of the true light that leads us through and eventually out of darkness into the light of life. Follow the light!

Monday, December 3, 2018

"Hoping So" or "Hoping In"?

Two different uses of "hope" that mark two different kinds of people

As we are in our first week in Advent and thinking about "hope" as it relates to the promised coming of a Savior, I'm reminded that we use this word in very different ways.

When I say, "I hope so," I'm usually expressing a wish or perhaps and uncertainty about what is coming. I want it to happen, but I'm not sure it will happen. So I "hope" it will.

But the hope we talk about with the coming of Jesus, or the salvation he has provided, has nothing to do with an uncertain wish--it is the expression of a confidence about the future that is based on the believability or certainty of the object.

As a great example, my hope in Christ is not that "I hope he will save me," because I know that he saves the one who believes on him and calls upon his name (Acts 16:31, Romans 10:13). I know that he knows me and will never let me go (John 10:27-30). He will save me. My hope is the assurance that, as good or bad as the present may look, as powerful as evil may seem, and as final as death presents itself to be, Jesus has promised me a future. It is with him, in a place he is preparing, and it involves not only the forgiveness of sins that I have received, but the removal of any effects of sin that were a result of the Fall. It involves resurrection from this dying (and someday dead) body into a glorified, immortal body. It includes final victory over all God's enemies, the ability to stand before God's throne and be justified then (as I am now), and to enter into an eternally glorious existence in a totally remade New Heaven and Earth. This hope is what I receive in Christ.

A "hope so" faith isn't really faith at all, is it? What we are offered in Jesus is a hope--a promise--of much more than I deserve, could imagine, or ever obtain on my own. Place your faith in the Savior of the world, and you no longer have to have a "hope so" approach to your future!