O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Consider the
words of the ancient hymn, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. Set to minor chords,
it powerfully captures in word and melody the combination of pain and hope that
is intrinsic to this season.
As the end
of November approaches, I find that while I am not yet prepared for
Advent, I am certainly preparing to prepare. The cues are all in place. Bare
trees, cold weather, the hints of snow, not to mention of course the commercial
signs of the season.
As a family
with Canadian and Dutch roots, we have embraced the celebration of the entire
season. We love to weave what we consider the best of our northern European
culture and the biblical narrative into a time of family, food and a month of
celebration. We would extend it for the full six weeks.
However,
since my son, David, died three years ago in December, we have
found that we have had to put these wonderful elements aside for the time
being. They had become deeply connected to yet another narrative. We do
so in the expectation that we will be able to pick them up yet again and enjoy
them in perhaps a much deeper way than before. In the meantime, we are forging
out new and deeply meaningful traditions in their stead.
It has
enabled us to consider in a more profound manner the love which would cause the
Creator of all that is to send His own Son to live and die for a lost corner of
His creation. We begin to grasp the depth of that cost. It has pushed us
to consider the reality of eternity in a way we never had before.
It makes
Advent that much more poignant. Advent involves longing, hope, expectation,
anticipation in the face of lack, need, loss and pain. Advent recognizes the
world for what it is, in its fallen state and sees it for what it could be. It
refuses to accept the status quo. Advent is what we might call “hopeful
realism” or “realistic hope”. It is more than an attitude. It is an
orientation.
The
world, whether it recognizes it or not, yearns for that very thing.
And, as God’s children, it is our birthright. In the midst of the turmoil
of the next few weeks, I encourage you to embrace it.
Come Lord
Jesus. Rev. 22:20
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