I am one of those freaky people who loves it when it gets dark by 4pm. I love the snow... I love the early sunsets... I love being hushed by the dark on my way home from work.
Please don't misunderstand me: I've struggled with my share of depression related to long dark days without sunlight. I know it can be taxing on body and spirit when we live in darkness for too long. Perhaps that's the point...
There was a time when all darkness held for me was sheer terror... ghosts... demons... memories... pain... agony... when all things evil were related to the dark, there was no possibility for me to see the beauty in the darkness. Deep healing and freedom needed to come so that I could encounter Jesus Christ in the darkness -- the darkness He created, the darkness His Spirit hovered in while over the face of the deep (Genesis 1), the darkness He came to Nicodemus by, the darkness that showed His natal star...
Such wonder! Awe... beauty... quiet... somber reflection as I tell myself the story of Advent in the reaches of the night...
I close my eyes, and I see snow-laden paths in a wood -- 2 paths diverging away from each other, yet other than that, equally adrift with snow, equally dark 'round the bend, equal in every respect. There are no footprints, no signs, no light but the wan moon trying to break through the deep clouds. Which do I take?
Neither.
This sacred space is a crossroads for me to stop... to remember... to wait... Advent is preparation, waiting, and desiring. I need not move from this untouched scene. It is cold. It is dark. I can feel winter's chill, but the journey is also about stopping before moving on. So here I am in Advent... loving both trails into the forest... eager to explore both... yet sensing the Spirit closer than my own frosty breath on the air soaking into my own soul. He dwells here. So here I dwell. He enjoys this place. So I enjoy it. I need not fear of becoming stagnant. He will tell me when to move on. I need not fear evil invading this place, for it is not allowed -- no temptation of mine, no evil of others, no demons of the pit. For now... for tonight... I am to be enveloped by the all consuming silence, but for the snowflakes tapping against my coat.
This is my prayer for our young children, bought and sold around the world.
Anyone who has worked with people exploited by the slave trade, especially the sex trade (or any form of abuse, for that matter), will know that the night holds a special kind of terror and bondage for them. I was never bought or sold. But I understand the terror. Acting out, tantrums, freak outs often all happen at bedtime or during the night. This is where the darkness -- created by God -- has itself been abused and exploited. This is when deeds of evil are gleeful. This is when many acts of exploitation are at their peak. The memories of these things are no less violating than the acts themselves.
So as I move into Advent... still in the darkness of the wood, snow, and Spirit... it is my fervent prayer that our youth will know darkness as beauty... as safe... as restful... as peaceful... as Spirit-filled. It will not be an easy road to come to. I know this as a truth. For some, it will take a lifetime.
But the Spirit moves and dwells in the dark as He does in the Light, exposing deeds of darkness (darkness here referring to evil, rather than the Spirit-created darkness). When freedom comes, may it come not only with tears and toil, but with a tired, weary, young head laying her head down on a pillow, breathing slowly... softly... as a child should... secure that her Lord and Shepherd is guarding her very essence, her body, her dreams... her life.
Lord, may it be so.
Amen.
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