December 2, 2015
I am what the world affectionately (and annoyingly at times) categorizes as a morning person. My introduction to this way of life began around the age of fourteen, which admittedly is the oddest of ages for a person to force less sleep upon themselves. Yet even in my youthful exuberance I found comfort in the slowness of the hour, in the ageless repetition of dawns' dimly emerging glow. And now this morning, thousands of mornings later, I impatiently arise to take delivery of new mercies, as a man whose need to read, pray and ponder outweighs the warm safety of slumber.
Tiredly, I sit down in a newly furnished corner of our house that we've defaulted to calling the reading nook somehow. There are lights on everywhere and it's my own doing. Until the morning light arrives, the morning lamps serve as my necessary brightness. I've never been one with much affection for the dark. The lights must come on quickly and there should be many of them. Maybe it's that I need an immediate bombardment of cheeriness, and artificial light is how I usher in the cheer.
The first of the winter months is upon us. A blanket of nostalgia drapes over me as it always does. I think back on a year of both brightness and dullness, wondering which one outweighed the other, before realizing that these kinds of percentages are difficult, if not impossible to quantify. The song with the words The hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight plays continuously in my mind. This was a year I made acquaintances with both. More often than not, it was the discordant clamor of fear that drowned out the melodic resolution of hope. And yet hope is the deeper magic, the heavier metal, the enduring oak and the perpetual light. How often we forget the star of Bethlehem. The angel choirs. The child in the manger. It was hope, in simultaneous spectacle and sobriety, meeting the fears of faceless shepherds and a fainthearted mother and father. The hope of Christ, in all of it's fear destroying glory and joy.
The light that will meet us today.