It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

Even though I cherished every second of having my nephew spend the day with me yesterday, I am not used to being chained to the house.  By the time he left and we had finished with supper, I was experiencing full-blown cabin fever. Begging for a breath of fresh air, I left my husband and son poring over parts on Craigslist and headed out for a walk.

Usually, I don't like walking in the dark, especially in the country. It's not that I am afraid of the dark (which is definite progress from when I was a kid); it's just that I am afraid of what lurks in the dark. While I enjoy wildlife, I don't want any nefarious critters to jump out at me while I am walking.  Even so, my advanced case of cabin fever was requiring immediate attention, so I decided to risk it. . .and I am so glad I did.

A light snow was falling.  Even though I couldn't see it, I could feel the flakes as they hit my face. I had been expecting that it would be difficult to see; however, the snow provided just enough light so that I could easily navigate the road to the highway.

One of the benefits of taking a walk on a snowy evening is that it is peaceful. Traffic was at a minimum, so the only sounds I heard were the crunching of the snow beneath my feet and the snuffling of the dog as she explored the snow banks for any unsuspecting mice.

Even though I should have been uneasy or uncomfortable by the dark, I was completely at ease.  I liked the privacy of being wrapped up in my own little world. I liked being anonymous, unseen, and undetected. I thought it couldn't get any more perfect. . .until I reached the street lights.

What I thought was near-perfection already became even more beautiful under the glow of the street lamps. Even though I could feel the flakes before, I now could see them, and it completely changed my perspective. Since my mind works in metaphor, I saw my walk from another perspective as well.

Typically, the Christmas Eve service at church is one of my favorites.  This year, I was extremely disappointed in several aspects of it. As the evening wore on, I could feel my frustration level rise. Then, it was time for my favorite part of the service - the candle-lighting. As happens every year, the sanctuary went completely dark, which is peaceful in and of itself. Then, the candles at the end of the row are lit, the light is passed, and the sanctuary begins to glow.  That which was hidden was exposed.

As we sang "Silent Night," I considered Christ, the light of the world. He came to the earth as a human to provide light, or hope, to a dark world and how we are all called, as redeemed followers of Christ, to be salt and light. Just like the sanctuary, in Him, there is no darkness. Likewise, in Him, everything is exposed. Our true nature, our truest intentions, our darkest sins are exposed and forgiven through grace.

Similarly, even though I was perfectly content to walk in the darkness on that snowy evening, the light changed my perspective. Often, when we walk in darkness, including depression, we experience limited perspective. It is lonely in its anonymity,  and it lacks perspective. We may trick ourselves into believing that the dark is all there is; it's as good as it gets. We believe that being enveloped in the darkness is safe and insulated, but that is not what God calls His children to be.

The streetlights allowed me to see what I had been missing. They allowed me to fully experience all that the walk could be. God's light is like that. In darkness, we have limited perspective. In the light, we see the full picture; everything is exposed. Our focus extends far beyond ourselves. The light directs our path and shows us where we are to go.

All this, I pondered as I continued on my walk. In my darkest moments, I have made two critical mistakes; I have completely lost perspective. First, all of my attention, energy, and motivation has been on self. I think of how I feel, what I want, how I believe myself to be mistreated, neglected, ripped off, etc. Secondly, I have taken my eyes off the true light - the One who provides direction and focus.

As I was rounding the darkest part of my walk - the back side of the golf course - where there was no path to guide my way, I thought of the night on which Christ was born. The Shepherds had to have been used to the dark. They were very aware of the dangers that lurked in the darkness; they knew they needed to be on guard for any predators that might attack the flock.

I tried to imagine their bewilderment when the sky filled with a bright light as an angel chorus came on the scene with special instructions for the Shepherds. One minute, a familiar darkness had enveloped them; the next minute, the entire sky and landscape was aglow. The light revealed good news.

Likewise, the visiting Magi did not rely on complicated GPS systems to bring them to the Christ child. They relied on a simple, natural, and brilliant star to guide them to the place they needed to go. In either case, the light literally brought them the hope of the world.

Isaiah 9:2 "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned." When it comes to the story of Christ's birth, this verse has literal and metaphorical implications. Darkness offers one limited perspective. Even though it may seem comfortable and even predictable, the light promises so much more. It is in the light that we are able to see and experience life to its fullest degree.