I admittedly have a bit of a melancholic personality. And I think that’s in part why I love Advent. Advent is the perfect mixture of melancholy and joy. It’s a raw, honest season of saying out loud the truth about the world’s darkness — and yet, during this time, we dare to hope. And year after year, we find it in Christ.
All people, at some point or another, walk through dark times. In fact, as I write these words, my own family has been through one of its darkest seasons, with the untimely death of a beloved family member. Perhaps you’ve experienced the same grief. Or maybe your dark time looked different — a crippling diagnosis, a prodigal son or daughter, financial hardship, the loss of health or strength, rejection by one you loved, betrayal by someone you trusted.
Whatever the details of any particular dark season, darkness often in general presents in the same ways. It leaves you disoriented. You feel you don’t know up from down, right from wrong, and you certainly don’t know which way to walk next.
It’s scary. You don’t know what might be lurking around the corner, what the next awful thing is that might reach out and grab hold of you.
It’s lonely. With darkness often comes silence. “Is there anybody out there,” we wonder, feeling abandoned, left to figure things out on our own.
God’s people have walked through various seasons of darkness, but maybe none more significant than the exile. When God first called Abraham, he promised he would give Abraham abundant offspring. He would be their God, and they would be his people, and among other things, He would give them a land — their very own, special, holy land where they would worship God, and He would dwell with them.
God made good on this promise, but almost immediately after He brought them to the land, the people began to sin horribly against God. They completely forgot Him, turned their backs against Him, worshiped other gods, and committed awful injustices against one another. Things got so bad that God punished them by purging them from the land. They were exiled through the hand of other powerful nations.
During this time, God’s people must have felt they were in total darkness. Where was God? Had He abandoned them forever? Were they no longer his people? They must certainly have been disoriented, scared, and lonely. Yet, in his mercy, God gave them promises — both before and during the exile — that it would not be this way forever. He would have mercy on them. He would deliver them. He would save them.
One of the greatest of these promises came through the prophet Isaiah:
“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; a light has dawned on those living in the land of darkness. You have enlarged the nation and increased its joy. The people have rejoiced before you as they rejoice at harvest time and as they rejoice when dividing spoils. For you have shattered their oppressive yoke and the rod on their shoulders, the staff of their oppressor, just as you did on the day of Midian. For every trampling boot of battle and the bloodied garments of war will be burned as fuel for the fire. For a child will be born for us, a son will be given to us, and the government will be on his shoulders. He will be named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. The dominion will be vast, and its prosperity will never end. He will reign on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish and sustain it with justice and righteousness from now on and forever. The zeal of the Lord of Armies will accomplish this” (Isaiah 9:2–7).
God promised through Isaiah that He would deliver His people from their darkness. He would send a child, and that child would become their great rescuer. He would rule and reign with justice and righteousness forever and ever. The people would again walk in the light.
The waiting
With promises like this in hand, the people began to wait. And wait. And wait.
And eventually, God did free them from exile and bring them home. But still, things just weren’t the same. Their glory days were over. God’s presence was no longer felt in the way it had been. His people were not prospering but continued to be subject to oppressive nations. And, worst of all, God eventually stopped talking to them. For 400 years, the prophets were silenced, and there was no word from God. But the people kept waiting.
This is the posture we take up during Advent. Advent — the season in the Church calendar immediately preceding leading up to Christmas, beginning four Sundays prior to Christmas day — is the time of waiting. Its name comes from a Latin word that simply means “arrival.” Advent is not the joyous celebration of all that is merry and bright; rather, it is a time of remembering the darkness and longingly looking for the arrival of One who will shine into that darkness. It is a time of recognizing and admitting all that is wrong in this world, and of leaning in with longing for the appearance of One to make it right. It is a time of daring to hope, of daring to believe those great promises of God’s Word: “From ancient times no one has heard, no one has listened to, no eye has seen any God except you who acts on behalf of the one who waits for him.” (Is 64:4)
Still waiting
But you may wonder, why do we need to rehearse this posture of waiting when the promised child has already come? After all, Christmas did happen, Christ has come, and a light has shone on those who walk in the darkness. Jesus came saying, “I am the light of the world. Anyone who follows me will never walk in the darkness but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). Indeed, all this is true! Christ is the child promised to His people, the one who rescued them, the King reigning forever on a throne of justice and righteousness! But the Bible tells us there is another coming of Christ — another arrival, another Advent.
We live in the time between the times. We live in between the two Advents. Christ has come; Christ will come again. And until He does, much remains dark about this world. Much remains dark about our lives.
You feel it, don’t you? Our world is still filled with the stench of death; we wait for the time when death will be no more, when it will be swallowed up by victory.
Our world is still filled with the presence and consequences of sin. Yes, Christ came to rescue us from our sins, and on the cross, he paid the penalty of sin for all those who will have faith in him. Yet, we long to be freed from the very presence of sin.
Our world is still filled with injustice — with people mistreating one another, committing violence against one another, oppressing one another based on race or ethnicity, income or class, religion or political persuasion.
Yes, there is much that is still dark in our world — and in our own hearts. And for this reason, we are still waiting. We are still waiting for the One. He has come, but he will come again, and when he does, he will make all things right.
Taylor Combs is the author of The One We’re Waiting For: An Illustrated Advent Devotional For Families and has a BA in Bible and Ministry from Lipscomb University, an M.Div. from Southern Seminary, and he holds a doctorate in historical theology from Midwestern Seminary, where he studied Protestant Christianity and American culture. After working in Christian publishing, Taylor, together with his wife Lindsay and a group of friends planted King’s Cross Church in East Nashville where he serves as lead pastor. Taylor and Lindsay live in Nashville, Tenn., with their three young children.
