I like to say that Christmas music is my antidepressant.
A couple of years ago when I was working my corporate 9-5 office job, I was both amazed and discouraged by how dark it was already when I left work for the evening. There was no daylight left. It felt dark and dreary to walk into the Chicago November cold and feel like there was no day left. And while I wouldn’t say I faced seasonal depression to the extent that many of my friends did, I definitely felt a little bit of a heaviness set in once winter came. The darkness when I left work made me feel like there was no more time or opportunity to do anything else before I went to bed. I felt more tired and more aimless and definitely a little more isolated.
In contrast, Chicago summers were wonderful. Groups of friends would go galavanting in the downtown area or would take excursions to the beach after dinner and have plenty of daylight left to enjoy. So that first winter that I was tied to my desk most of the day, and left in the darkness the rest of the day….well, it felt really gloomy.
So I started listening to Christmas music as early as October. The Christmas music made me feel like there was something to look forward to. It gave a meaning to the darkness. It meant that soon the darkness would be filled with festive lights. I would look forward to the dark and chilly early morning walks to the Chiropractor because Michigan avenue would be lined with lit trees and red bows everywhere.
I would grab my coat a little tighter and nestle my chin a little deeper into my scarf as I walked a little more slowly past the storefront windows filled with festive decorations and displays. Even the most consumeristic aspects of Christmas brought me joy because it reminded me that there is warmth in the cold, light in the darkness, friendship in the isolation, and something to celebrate even in the bleak midwinter.
So when I say Advent could not have come sooner in 2020, I mean it. After a year of proverbial winter (isolation, sickness, sadness), I could not wait to start blasting my Christmas music and singing Jingle Bell Rock again.
It makes me think of The Chronicles of Narnia…specifically The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. When the Pevensie children first arrive in the magical land of Narnia, they enter into that bleak midwinter scenario. C.S. Lewis writes of Narnia at that point, “It was always winter, but never Christmas.”
Can you imagine that? I love a white Christmas, but if the world was left in a frozen state with white snow turning to brown slush and lush bushes becoming merely bare skeletons covered in ice…I don’t know if I could bear it. Winter with no Christmas just becomes a barren, cold, dark desert of death.
2020 has felt a little like that, and none of us have liked it.
Shutdowns remind us that we’re powerless.
Sickness reminds us that we’re frail.
The virus reminds us that life is fleeting.
Quarantines make us feel more isolated than ever.
Zoom meetings remind us how much we miss being hugged.
Masks make us miss a simple smile.
And while there is truly no way of knowing how long our “normal” will be different because of Covid-19, there is one thing that reminds us there is hope: Advent.
Isn’t it O Holy Night that says, “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices”?
After 400 years without a prophet, the Jewish people wondered if God had abandoned them. He had promised a Messiah, and after Roman oppression, systemic poverty, and a national history of tragedy after tragedy, it sure seemed like the Messiah was late. If they ever needed saving, they needed it LIKE YESTERDAY. So where was He? God hadn’t even spoken to them lately to assure them he still had a plan. It was radio silence. No saving. No redemption. Nothing.
The world was weary. It was groaning. Was it hopeless after all?
But then one silent night, the sky lit up with angels praising the God that still had a plan. Shepherds practically fell over themselves to go see the One whose birth announcement came from heavenly choirs. That night the darkness was overcome with the light. In some dirty little corner of the world filled with animal droppings and cow feed, two unlikely parents got the first glimpse into the eyes of the child that would change everything. It was no mistake that the Messiah came in the form of an infant. Mary’s own pregnancy…her 9-month wait…the anticipation, the contractions, the groaning during the labor….that was all a picture of the very anticipation and waiting and groaning that Israel had faced wondering when the Messiah would come.
Many women will say their pregnancy was uncomfortable, the waiting was unbearable, and the childbirth was painful…but many will also tell you it all became worth it the moment their eyes met the one they had been waiting for.
The Messiah has come. God’s plan was fulfilled and continues to be accomplished. That news itself is a reason to rejoice. Christmas gives us an opportunity to celebrate the fact that there IS hope in a hopeless world…that there IS light that has overcome the darkness.
But we still groan. Romans 8 talks about this groaning…the suffering of a world that has not yet seen the end of God’s plan fulfilled. We still suffer, we still get sick, we still feel isolated and hopeless and deep sadness. 2020 has pointed this groaning out more than ever before. We can’t ignore it…it’s everywhere. Tragedy and strife and sickness and suffering are all around us.
But just like God’s promised Messiah came after that 400 years of radio silence…He will come again. Just like the darkness was peeled back to show a glimpse into the light of heaven that one silent night, it will yet be overcome by our shining Savior…this time riding into battle to conquer the darkness for good.
So this Christmas, when you light the next advent candle or turn on your Christmas lights, take a minute to breathe a little more deeply as you watch the darkness give way to the light. The hope we celebrate each Christmas is only a glimpse of the redemption to come. When we remember Israel’s waiting, the Jews’ affliction, and Mary’s labor, we can identify with their suffering as we groan the same words: Come thou long-expected Jesus!
