Three years ago my husband and I were flying home from Anchorage, Alaska. The Delta direct flight left Anchorage at 10pm and would arrive in MSP at 6am.  We were flying back from attending a funeral and we were still in shock from the grief. 

In Alaska this time of year, the days are only a few hours long and the nights are much, much longer. The heaviness of the dark advent skies blanketed us, reassured us that nothing more was needed. We could simply rest or sleep or cry or wait. 

As we took off over the mountains which were only visible because the night was clear and the moon was reflecting off of the white snow, I noticed a green haze off in the distance. It was glowing around the mountains. 

The plane continued to fly over the range and the colors shifted from blue to green to a little purple and white. Then I realized, these were the northern lights. This was my first time seeing them, and I was seeing them from a plane.

Advent comes to us in the darkest time of the year and the timing isn’t random. Jesus is the light of the world, shattering the darkness with his peace, hope, and justice. Advent gets progressively darker as it marches towards the winter solstice. And then, at the darkest point of the year, when in the northern hemisphere, the sun might not even make it up over the horizon, a tiny baby, the Savior of the world bursts onto the scene. His cries pierce the darkness and startle the animals in the stable. 

Isaiah told them to, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.” And boy did he come with a vengeance. 

The baby’s strong lungs cried out at the injustice of being forced out of the warm, quiet, dark womb, where his mother’s voice was muffled and her beating heart lulled him to sleep. He hollered as he pushed his way into the world and the coldness, the pain, the intensity overwhelmed his senses. The soft womb was replaced by scratchy straw. The muffled voices were replaced by groaning, wailing, and exclamations.

“What has come into being in him was life, and that life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.”

The world is shattered by the presence of this light. Everything changes when God breaks into this world through pain, and hope, and love, and light. The light of this season illuminates our grief, and that light gives us the hope of resurrection without discounting the legitimacy of our heartbreak and lonesomeness this season. 

Our loved ones are in this light and we are reminded that we are surrounded by this great cloud of witnesses: the saints who came before us and those who will be here after us.