Start in the Dark

Soon the season of Advent will be upon us. I’ve always loved the season of Advent, for several reasons. Not only is the season full of festive excitement for the upcoming holiday, but it’s also a time of clear and calm focus. For me, Advent is a time to concentrate on and appreciate the gift God has given us in Jesus. It’s a time to celebrate the already and look forward to the not-yet. The message and center of Advent is deeply profound yet gloriously uncomplicated; it’s truly wonderful but oh, so simple. 

Stemming from the Latin word adventus, advent denotes a sense of hope-filled waiting for a coming or arrival. Different denominations celebrate it in different ways, but in general, Advent is a season where believers celebrate the birth of Jesus and anticipate His second coming. Our family has always attended a Baptist church where we celebrate the Sundays of Advent by lighting candles on an Advent wreath and focusing on the hope, peace, and joy we have through Jesus. 

Despite the normal holiday business, Advent is still a time of rest for my soul. Each year during Thanksgiving break, I find and buy a new Advent devotion book to use during my December quiet times. This year is no different, except I started my book search a bit early. While scouring Christian bookstores and reading book reviews online last week, I ran across a book written by Fleming Rutledge, a female Episcopal priest and author. In her book Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus, Rutledge writes: 

 “Advent begins in the dark and moves toward the light.”

I read the quote several times and shook my head. My initial thought was, “she’s wrong. Advent is a time to focus on the light Jesus brings!” And though I was pretty sure I was right (as usual), I still couldn’t escape that quote. It has been rumbling around in my mind for days. 

 “Advent begins in the dark.”

 “Advent begins in the dark.” 

I have to admit, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she’s right (and I’m wrong, which happens more often than I’d like). 

Advent does start in the dark! Let me explain…

Stubborn and self-reliant as we humans are, the way to get us to value something is to show us our need for it. Let’s face it: if I’m not totally convinced that I need something, then I’m not buying it. I’ll do just fine without it. This reminds me of an illustration I heard Kirk Cameron use at a conference I attended. It went something like this…

If you’re like most plane passengers, you don’t really listen when the stewardess gives the whole “your seat is a flotation device” safety speech prior to take-off, mostly because you don’t anticipate needing a flotation device during a flight. But what if one flight was different? What if you got on the plane without the option of leaving, and the pilot told you the plane was absolutely, positively going to crash into the ocean in mid-flight? Suddenly, the safety speech becomes much more important! You’re going to want to know all about how your seat cushion can become a float. What changed? The speech the stewardess gives is the exact same. Why are you listening now? Because you know you need that information. Learning about that flotation device now has life or death implications.

Appreciation for the birth and coming of Christ works in the same way. It starts with a strong conviction that Jesus brought (and will bring) the very thing we so desperately need but can’t provide for ourselves. Without that conviction, Advent has no significance. 

So it “starts in the dark” because, for Advent to mean anything at all, for Advent to matter, we first must acknowledge the darkness around us and the darkness in us. In order to celebrate the coming of a Savior, we have to admit our need for one.

We don’t need advent if we don’t need saving. 

We don’t need light if we’re not in the dark. 

We won’t celebrate the hope he offers if we aren’t hopeless on our own.

So a truly reflective season of advent shouldn’t start with the birth of Jesus. It shouldn’t start with the light of the world. It shouldn’t start with hope, peace, and joy.

It should start in the dark. 

Advent should start with sin, with desperation and despair. Advent should begin by seeing that we are badly broken and completely hopeless and utterly lost without a Savior. Only then can we properly celebrate Jesus coming to do what we cannot do for ourselves. 

As this advent season approaches, before you settle in to remember the birth of Jesus and anticipate His second coming, stop for a moment and stand in the dark.

Remember who you were before Christ. 

“And you were dead in your trespasses and sins, in which you used to walk when you conformed to the ways of this world” (Eph 2:1) 

Look around you. See the sad state of this world without Jesus.

“There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands;  there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away,they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one.” (Rom 3:10-12)
Look within you. Acknowledge the sinful desires that still lurk in your heart. 

“For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.” (Rom 7:18)

Start this advent season with the darkness, and then you will appreciate the light all the more.