Advent Light

In his book Resurrection, Rowan Williams compares the disorientation of Jesus' followers at the Resurrection to our confusion after the lights have suddenly been switched on in the morning. In both cases, it takes awhile for our eyes to adjust to an unexpected, blinding light. We squint and blink, not quite sure of what we are seeing, until the world comes back into focus. I like this image for Resurrection, yet I would add that the light that we await at Advent comes more like the dawn on a cloudy day.

On my two-hour drive to Western Kentucky every Sunday, I start out in darkness. The sky is wrapped in thick black cloth that hugs my car like a shroud and keeps my eyes fixed on the small segment of road right in front of me. I can only see the narrow path illumined by my car's headlights, a limited path that ends in the darkness of the unknown road. I think that we often imagine God's light to be like those headlights, a focused beam that we can point into the future and swivel across our world, advertising divine presence and calling attention to our cause. 

While my eyes are fixed anxiously on the narrow beams ahead of me, however, God's light is silently sneaking up behind. On clear days, a routine glance in the rear view mirror shows slivers of pink and coral light slowly peeking through the hills and trees. I smile at the subtle beauty of a new day. When it is cloudy, though, I can't see the delicate hints of the light to come. Behind me, the blackness of the night just gives way imperceptibly to gray--gray that grows brighter and brighter until I suddenly realize that I can see, and that my car's precious head lights have become superfluous.

In Advent, there is no blinding light that we must accommodate, no flash of Glory. There is only an imperceptible dawning, an acknowledgment that, while my eyes were set on controlling the darkness, God has ushered in the light of day--a light in which stables and trees, poverty and richness, the beauties and horrors of the world are made visible and, once again, await our attention.