Keep the lights on

We have a tree problem this year. After much debate about where to get one and how large it should be, we set up a live tree in the front room of our house. It leans a little and sheds a lot, but it smells divine and has a fullness to it that makes up for our Charlie Brown tree of Christmas 2018. The problem with this year’s tree, though, is it won’t stay lit. On any given day I walk into the front room excited to flip the switch that makes Christmas magic happen, and this is what I discover:

Each day, a different section goes out. It’s like the lights take turns playing this game with me on purpose. Sometimes we can fix the issue by unplugging and reworking things here or there, but it isn’t without some cussing and fussing as we rummage through dry needles looking for the latest source of our tree troubles.

In a most maddening way, this tree reminds me of something important about Christmas:

It’s hard to keep the lights on.

Amidst our inflatable Santas and ceramic snowmen, it’s easy to forget the connection between our commercial Christmas celebrations and the Advent season. I forget every morning until I see our half-lit tree. It’s not about the gifts and the food, the parties or the programs. Christmas wouldn’t mean anything without the light.

For years I thought Advent was mostly a time of waiting and a good opportunity to eat an extra piece of chocolate for 25 straight days. There is truth in the notion that it’s an expectant time, but I learned this week that the word literally means “coming.” Advent reminds us to look back at the coming of Jesus as a prophecy fulfilled, and at the same time, it calls us to look forward to the second coming of Jesus when all will be made right. After 400 years of silence, Jesus—our promised light—entered the world. His work here won’t be finished and all will not be well until he comes again, but His light didn’t leave when he ascended. We are the chosen bearers of it.

Maybe that’s what this season primarily asks of us: that we keep working to keep our trees lit up… looking for light and finding ways to pierce dark places with hopeful flickers of it.

There is no shortage of dark places all around us: lonely people, dead-end jobs, miserable marriages, broken families, diseased bodies, empty wombs and abandoned rooms. There are places and seasons where the darkness is so heavy, so pervasive that it takes our breath away. It’s naive at best and negligent at worst to pretend that darkness is not an ever-present reality in our hearts and our homes. Our world is full of hurts and horrors, sin and sadness.

BUT, Jesus.

The people who walk in darkness will see a great light.
For those who live in a land of deep darkness, a light will shine.
Isaiah 9:2

Maybe we have an opportunity to dispel some of the darkness when we keep working to light up our own corners of the world? Sending cards to people who are widowed or alone. Hanging a wreath on the door of our office. Buying a coffee for the tired commuter in the car behind us. Sponsoring Christmas gifts for a child in the foster system. Donating or delivering food to the hungry. Scheduling a counseling session for a troubled marriage. Calling an estranged family member. Taking snacks to the lobby of a local cancer center. Speaking encouragement over a struggling child. Listening to someone tell a story.

Offering a warm hug. Flashing a kind smile. Simply showing up.

Our leaning tree is living proof of the difference even a few lights can make. Every spark, each little bulb on the strand, counts.

This busy season, this dreary winter, this coming year… we have a choice. We can be people who let the darkness take hold, or we can be people who don’t give up trying to keep the lights on.