The night sky has always been one of my favorite sights. When I was growing up, it was a sky full of wonder. I remember I would eagerly await at night for my dad to tell me to sleep and close my room door. As the shadow of my dad’s footsteps faded further down the hallway I would stand on my bed, place my arms on the chilly sill, and admire the stars from my window.
In the moments now when I remember to look up, I find the night sky a beautiful mystery. In the void and empty space, the world is the darkest it will ever be, yet the luminous stars remind me it is never just dark.
This is the same evening sky the shepherds stood under thousands of years ago. For the shepherds, the dark sky was not an exciting getaway view to experience from inside an Airbnb. It was a familiar and cold setting they stood out under night after night. I imagine monotony is not too difficult for us to understand in this season of shutdowns and routines in the midst of the pandemic.
As we enter the story in Luke 2, we see routine become revelation as a silent night becomes a holy night. Illuminating the darkness and piercing the silence, the good news of Christ’s birth is first shared to nearby shepherds. It is in a night much like any other that God provides a revelation, a proclamation, and a promise fulfilled. These words carried a fervent and weighty anticipation as the shepherds hurried into Bethlehem to see this spoken word in the flesh.
The good news of Christ’s first arrival was hope for Israel then,
And it is hope for us all now.
As Pastor Joanne shared, “As the night gets long, we wish the night away. [But this] passage begins and ends in the same night. Our dark nights become something otherworldly when God breaks through and we take him at his word.”Â
As the shepherds were met with a hopeful message, we encounter the gracious message of Christ today in Advent. Whatever the night may mean to you: mystery, distress, monotony, distance, or darkness, the night is not the end. We have a God who breaks through the night and a Savior who rose before the third night.
God, You set eternity in my heart and You designed me for communion. In this separation, in this season, I’ve been walking, running, sitting, laying, doing everything in between. Life is full of it all: movement, breakthrough, silence, and stillness. Any distance I may think, may it not convince me that You are far. Any distance I may feel, may it not lead me to accept dissonance as reality.
We want to see You here and now in the high and low notes of what feels like a continuous reprise. We want our confession in these times to recapitulate our salvation story. We want to move with the pace your grace moves us in this faith journey. We confess it’s okay to walk when it’s time and to run when it’s time. But strolling in the dark without You is wandering and we want to come home.
God, draw near to me as I draw near to you and help me find Hope where I am today. May I see I have a God who shines from afar and up close. You are near to the confessors, the broken and contrite. Come and soften my heart. Come and clear my eyes. Help me to taste and see that you are God and you are good.
Amen.
Take a few minutes of silence to read Luke 2, to hold these truths and mediate on this good news.
Ask God to remind you of His promises that you may have forgotten.Reflect on what the “night” is for you and imagine what it might look like for God’s light to enter your “night” here and now.
Kathleen Kim is the Ministry and Project Coordinator at EKKO Church, where she coordinates the various threads of the church into one cohesive operation. She is currently enrolled at Talbot School of Theology for her Master of Divinity.
The artwork used today was from Scott The Painter. Used with permission.