Longing for Light

From the first twinkling of lights in December, I find that my soul is craving light.

Ever since the devastating loss of my nephew over a year ago, my darkened heart has been seeking the light wherever I can find it. Dappled sunlight through leaves, moonlit shadows in the dark nights, a singular candle flame dancing before my eyes, the twinkle in my daughters’ eyes when they smile, the blazing fire in our woodstove, the last moments of golden light before the sun finally sinks below the horizon at the end of the day. All of these moments root me back to the true Source of light, and to the Light of the World himself. In those long grief-filled days when my heart, mind, and soul were darkened by sorrow, even the smallest glimmer of light brought a tiny ray of hope. Someday, God.

In the year and a half since our deep loss, I have experienced longing like never before. I long for peace, for rest. How long will we walk this grief journey? The rest of our lives, I suspect. That grief has become part of me, his memory is something I cling to tightly. When will I no longer feel this ache deep in my spirit? Someday, God.

I long for joy. Not to say that I do not experience or have joy frequently in my life, because I do. But I long for the joy uninhibited, that kind of joy that a child can express, without a care or sorrow in the wide world. A pure joy, an unbroken joy. That heart-bursting joy that I anticipate experiencing at my first glimpse of Christ after death.

Someday, God.

Someday.

//

The end of the year is a busy time for us, living and working on a college campus where our school year ends in November and graduation is always the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We see the calendar filling up, the extra events and concerts. We always host a large Thanksgiving dinner for a eclectic group of people, each year a little different than the last. How many people for Thanksgiving this year? I need to help my daughter with her end of year speech. Do the girls have something to wear to graduation? Can I find a turkey, a pumpkin, cranberries, anywhere here?

In the midst of this end of year rush, I long for rest. For the pace to slow, for my mind to slow, for my heart to slow. I am grateful that for us, December can be a month of slowing. As those of us who live far from family can attest, sometimes filling up our holiday schedules can ease that pain; we wonder, how sore will our hearts be, when we slow down to await the arrival of Christ? In our hushed month, after the hurry, when all we long for is an empty schedule, a cleared mind, rest for our hearts… will we find ourselves empty, homesick, sorrowful? Or will the promise of Christ coming be enough?

Today, God.

This promise, this coming of Christ, will not erase the sorrow, the pain, the homesickness, the grief… but it is enough. He is enough. This little baby, in whom we place all of our hope and trust, will come again; he will arrive, humble and hushed, into the world, into our lives. These longings for peace, for joy, for rest… he has come for this, for our deliverance from this broken world, from our broken souls.

Today, God.

The prayer of Zechariah at the end of Luke 1 has taken on special significance for me in the past year and a half, as I struggled in hope. Filled with the Holy Spirit, he prophesies about John, his son, preparing the way for Jesus:

“And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
 to give his people the knowledge of salvation
    through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven

 to shine on those living in darkness
    and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.” (Luke 1:76-79)

Because of God’s tender mercy, the rising sun will come to us, to shine on us who live in darkness and the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace. We know what it is to live in darkness, to live in the shadow of death. We know how entangling our lives are, how distracted we find ourselves, how hurried we feel… and God’s mercy is making a way, for light, for peace, for joy. He is preparing the path for us, he is sending his Son.

Today, God.

And someday, someday soon, all the brokenness will be gone. All the rest of the longing will be met, in full, in glory.

 Let us wait together, for he is coming!

How is God bringing light and hope to your deep places of longing?