Day 2
The Soft Light
My family has a tradition we hold every Christmas Eve called “The Light of the World”. Sometime after sunset, we all crowd into a dark closet and listen as my Dad gives a dramatic retelling of the Christmas story.
Though this could sound strange, as a kid, it was mesmerizing! The story came to life as we sat huddled in the dark, my Dad’s familiar voice filling the air. We stifled giggles. “In the beginning, the Spirit hovered over the deep…” We held our breath in excitement, fidgeting with each of our candles. Then, with a dramatic pause, there was the whisking sound of the lighter, as my Dad echoed the first pronunciation of the Ancient Father: “Let there be light”! Suddenly—in the darkness, there was a soft flame. It wasn’t blinding fluorescence. It was a humble, warm tone. The story went on as he told of how this light came into the world as a baby. He shared the flame with the person next to him, and the light spread to each of our candles. With two hands wrapped tightly around the wax and a flickering whisp reflecting onto each of our faces, it somehow felt akin to the humble honor of holding the infant King— vulnerable, sacred, and full of wonder.
Isn’t there something about candlelight? It’s not like the noonday sun that we can only truly look at for a brief moment. Neither is it artificial or wired. It’s soft and inviting. Candlelight doesn’t overtake the whole room, but in the darkness, it does draw all the attention. It lightly dances, bringing comfort and a mysterious sense of hope. If not held by the wax and contained to the wick, the flame could consume the whole room. But instead, it flickers meekly. It’s power is under control in order to offer a light that is welcoming. Remind you of someone?
In the first chapter of Revelation, one of Jesus’ closest friends and disciples had a vision where he saw Jesus as He truly is—His face shining brighter than the sun. When he saw this, John fell to the ground, as if dead. He needed Jesus to come touch him and strengthen him in order to even stand up again in the presence of God’s glory.
If any of us were to see the full glory of God in this moment, the same thing would probably happen to us. But this blinding light is not how Jesus revealed Himself. He came like candlelight, born at night— the full majesty of God wrapped up in a vulnerable newborn. He offers His light to us meekly so that we can approach, receive, and hold closely the flame that fills all in all. He shines softly in ways that we can digest, slowly expanding our capacity to behold more of His brightness. Like the candlelight, He restrains His power for the sake of love.
Creative Response:
In your room, turn off all the lights and light a single candle (if you need to wait until evening to do this, go ahead!). Take some time to sit still. Watch the flame for a while and meditate on the way our God— the All Consuming Fire— came so humbly. Notice what this experience stirs inside of you.
Now, pick up the candle and hold it close to you. Picture in your mind the way Mary would have interacted with her child—probably picking Jesus up and holding Him closely to her body in the moments after He was born. How easily a newborn welcomes an embrace. How easily He draws close to you.
Think about how approachable Jesus made Himself and what His infancy tells us about His nature. Think about the way His incarnation dignifies the human body and the physical proximity it gives us to His presence. Soak in this for a while, sharing any honest prayers with Him and asking what He wants to say to you. Afterward, journal any thoughts and reflections you may have.
Turn on some instrumental music (I recommend “Roses” by Jewellane or “I Exalt Thee” by Steffany Gretzinger). If you’d like, try to express your prayer or reflection back to God through physical movement as the music plays. This could be anything from a simple posture of worship (like kneeling or opening your hands) all the way to an expressive dance. Notice the impact that involving your body in worship has on your soul.
Reflective Questions
If you have time in your day for some further reflection, consider the words and questions below:
Even more obscure than His birth, the Light of the world had already made His entrance when He was being formed in the secret place of Mary’s womb. Can you imagine that? Talk about hidden light. I wonder what it must have been like for Mary, to have very little understanding of what she was saying yes to, but receiving it all the same. Only time would unfold the full brightness of the Man she was carrying, and yet she was willing to accept the light fully within her, embracing the mystery. Her womb cradled and nourished God. The Savior was formed within her body. She humbly held the hidden light and without comprehending everything, she was still able to fully participate. As she pondered the wonder of it all, she let her wonder give way to worship (Luke 1:47-55).
“LORD, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I don’t concern myself with matters too great or too awesome for me to grasp. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.” Psalm 131:1-2
As you ponder the way that Jesus came and the way that Mary interacted with and received Him, what does it stir within you? Do you sense any invitation from the Holy Spirit in your own life after thinking upon all these things?
In what ways can you also receive this Advent season like Mary did— giving way to wonder and worship before grasping everything? Is there an aspect of Himself, His ways, or His words that God is inviting you to simply accept and hold, like Mary did, even before you can logically explain or understand?
Are there any areas of your life in which you are holding the tension of mystery and promise? How can Mary’s posture give you courage to trust and believe in God’s faithfulness?