I admit that it's been harder for me to celebrate Christmas the past few days and I'm guessing I'm not the only one. It's hard to look at my childrens' presents under the tree and not think of unwrapped presents waiting for children who won't come home. I struggle to sing Joy to the World when I think of the pain that parents and brothers and sisters are enduring right now. My girls are 6 and 7 years old and looking at the list of innocent children, all 6 or 7 years old, that were massacred in a place they thought was safe, it just crushes my heart, Matt and I decided to talk to our older girls about what happened before they went to school today because we wanted them to hear the truth of what happened from their parents, and not some other version from kids on the bus or the playground. And we wanted them to know that while many people in the world are safe and kind even, there are bad people who hurt others. As much as we'd like to preserve their innocence and let them believe that the world is a safe place, we also want them to know enough of the truth to make sure their world stays as safe as possible. They've practiced "code red drills" at school before, but they never really thought about what those drills mean ( they said they were told that the drills are for "in case there's a robber.") Apparently an adult approached a child at their school once and offered them a ride home and they put the school on lock down and had code red drills for a week, so they're assuming they'll have code red drills for two weeks at least (I didn't remind them that it's only 1 week until Christmas break.) I laid awake last night trying to find a reasonable excuse to keep them home today, and I hugged them tighter and stalled the goodbyes before they got on the bus today, and I suppose I won't breathe easy until they come back home again.
The questions that we are all wrestling with in the aftermath of Friday's horrific tragedy are difficult - why did this happen? Where was God in all of this and why did He not save these children? These are not easy questions and they shouldn't have quick or simple or pithy answers. I get really frustrated when those who call themselves Christ followers answers these questions rationally or even "Biblically," without compassion or wisdom or even some common sense. If I hear one more person comment that we've taken God out of schools so why do we act surprised that He didn't stop this tragedy I'm going to vomit. As if we actually have the power to remove an omnipresent all powerful God from any place let alone a building full of innocent children. I understand what people mean when they say this, I get the rational point they are making. But the truth is that God was there in that building, He didn't abandon those children, He is not in the business of forsaking people to make a point or get revenge. If that man had walked in my kids' school instead of the school in CT, I don't know that God would have spared my girls' lives, but I do know that He would have been very real and present for them throughout the nightmare. I know that He has promised never to leave or forsake them (Hebrews 13:5), to be their refuge and ever-present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1), and to guard their hearts with peace that transcends all understanding (Philippians 4:7). God is present in their school today, not just because God is present everywhere, but because my children and all children who believe carry God with them in their hearts. I pray often with my kids that they will shine God's light wherever they go. I teach them that their actions make it possible for God to remain in their school (where incidentally they say the pledge every day, including the words "under God" and pause for a moment of silence, during which they pray. Every day. And yes, it's a public school). If we are so concerned with God being in or out of our schools, then we should make it our mission to carry Him in with us when we volunteer, and teach our children to be a living example of God's love in the classroom, the lunchroom and on the playground.
But back to Christmas. One of our family's favorite Christmas traditions is lighting our Advent candles. It wasn't a tradition we grew up with, so I'm not sure why we decided to start it with our own family, but it's become this special time in our week where we pause to light a candle, say a prayer, remember why we celebrate Christmas. Advent means "anticipation." During advent we celebrate in anticipation of Christ's coming - both His first coming as a baby and His second coming as King. We remember the years spent waiting, longing for that first coming. Many of those years spent in darkness, in slavery, in chains of injustice and violence and fear. Today more than ever I think about those 400 years between the last prophet's final breath in the Old Testament and the sound of God in human form, erupting as a baby's cry on that first Christmas. How that silence must have echoed, how distant God must have felt. 400 years without hearing from God, not a word or a prophecy, only hope that one day He would come. Then light breaks forth from darkness, angels split wide open the night sky, a star appears and shines as if to say "what you have waited for has come at last!" 2000 years later, we celebrate that first coming and the ever-permeating light it brought to our world. Emmanuel, God with us. Here. Now. Forever. And we anticipate His coming again, to rule and reign and bring an end to all that is evil and unjust. Today more than ever I long for that time where God will deliver us from this world wracked with sin and pain. But recently I read something that made me look at Advent in a new way. It was an advent devotional (I wish I could find it again, but I have no idea where it is), and it spoke of anticipation in the here and now. You see Christ's coming is not just a past and future event. Emmanuel, God with us, means that He is here now and we can anticipate, long for, look for His presence every day. In this dark world, we must look expectantly for His light to shine, knowing that light shines all the brighter in the midst of darkness. There's a story floating around the internet about something Mr. Roger's mom told him when tragedy strikes - she told him to "look for the helpers, you will always find people helping." While that is true (and great parenting, if you ask me), the greater truth is that we should look for Jesus, anticipate His light shining through the darkness. In words of comfort, in selfless acts, in an outpouring of heartfelt support, in peace that passes all understanding. Like a candle lit in the darkness, God's love will burn bright. What if in the darkness we simply look expectantly for His love to shine more clearly? And as believers, shouldn't we anticipate, long for, expect to shine that light for the world to see? One of my favorite verses is Isaiah 58:10, "and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday." Earlier in the chapter Isaiah writes, "Is this not the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice... to set the oppressed free... Is it not to share your food with the hungry and provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear" (v 6-8) Instead of reacting emotionally, let's pause in this season of advent to let God respond through us so that His light is seen by all. Let us pray that the world that screams out "where is God?" will look at us and see Him, Emmanuel, God with us.
Knowing that God is with us, being comforted by His presence, it doesn't answer the questions that echo throughout our country today. We will never know "why" this happened, not in this lifetime. But we do have hope to hold onto. Hope that this pain and suffering will one day end. Hope that God will draw close to us if we draw close to Him. We know that this world will never satisfy our longing, can never fulfill our anticipation, doesn't begin to meet our expectations. The truth is we don't belong here, we were created to be in relationship with our Creator, and until we are home with Him we will always wrestle with the emptiness this world offers us. But as we celebrate Advent, that longing and anticipation and expectation is met with Christ's light, giving us hope to hang onto and to shine out into the darkness.
O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
