Advent 1 - Let Us Be Light

The New Revised Standard Version The Coming of the Son of Man

The Coming of the Son of Man

(Mt 24:29–31; Lk 21:25–28)

24 “But in those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,

and the moon will not give its light,

25 and the stars will be falling from heaven,

and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

26 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 27 Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

The Lesson of the Fig Tree

(Mt 24:32–35; Lk 21:29–33)

28 “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

Advent is the season of waiting. Waiting in the hope that we will see the light of Christ. Waiting in anticipation that the darkness will abate and dawn will greet us. Waiting…waiting.

I’ve come to realize that it is not truly waiting if we are completely assured of the arrival. Think of when you’ve waited at an airport or train station for a delayed arrival of your transportation. You’ve been given assurances that the train is just 5 more minutes away. The aircraft is almost to your gate. But almost there…it’s never fully convincing until you see it with your own eyes. You know there could always be a change, another bump, another delay.

Waiting requires us to embrace discomfort.

Waiting requires us to look to the horizon while still expecting to be disappointed.

Waiting never guarantees the payout, the knock on the door, the confirmation of the “yes.”

Waiting has the potential to disappoint us OR overwhelm us, train us to be people of hope or add to our despair.

And the opening of our text today speaks of those people who have been waiting. And now, in their anguish, in this space of unknown and wondering and hoping and praying and doubting and holding on…something happens.

This is the story of Advent. We wait in hope for the light to come.

Let’s look at our text.

It opens with a typical apocalyptic statement, a dramatic note of revelation and appearance.

“But in those days, after that suffering...”

In what days? After what suffering?

These could be any days. These could be our days. These could be the days of God’s people longing for a light to dawn…in first century Palestine, during Roman occupation. In twenty-first century Palestine, amidst brutal war and enduring conflict. This could be our times, it could be those times. It could be that waiting on the front lines of conflict and waiting for the phone to ring with news from the doctor, telling us our diagnosis. In those days, after that suffering...

What is revealed to us in Advent assumes we are waiting in a space of deep, deep longing. Deep deep longing is often accompanied by deep pain and hope for resolution.

And then we hear:

Mark 13:24–26 NRSV

24 “But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, 25 and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. 26 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.

The sun will be darkened and the moon will not give its light. And the stars will be falling from heaven and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

The very structures of the cosmos will be disrupted, altered, torn down and failing.

Where did God first create, set up the alignment of the universe — it was with these celestial bodies, these stars, moon and sun.

Creation

As we examine the Gospel narratives of Jesus’ birth, it helps to go back into the first words of the Hebrew Scriptures to see where this began. God speaks existence into being, an incredible cosmic explosion of light. On the first day of the creation story, God says, “Let there be light.” And the light separates from the dark, and we see day and night, followed by moon and stars and sun, all pointing us to how God, in creation, shines out.

God creates and illuminates our world. It is from these celestial bodies we trace time, we perceive reality and relationship.

Incarnation

And then, with Christ, this shining light, which illuminates out from the center of this cosmic explosion, joins us in body, flesh, and lived reality. To incarnate is to fill and become a part of human lives. It was an actual birth, with all its pain, mess, anticipation, and resolution. Incarnation happens in the Christmas story, and now we live out the season of Advent and Christmas as a reminder that the Light is with us.

How do we see the Light now? Is this just an old story to remember, a season celebration to honor? Or could it be that incarnation continues? We believe that the light that exploded from the cosmic creation now carries and indwells us, God’s people. So when we desire to see the light and look around us hoping to see Good News, the words I hear for God’s people become, “Let us be light.”

We continue Jesus’ incarnating work by becoming the Light ourselves. “Let us be light” is a prayer that as Christ now lives in us, we shine out the hope, meaning, and joy that he brings. You, me, we are now the light(s). We are the ones in whom God chooses to dwell. We must be the light!

It can be challenging to “be the light” sometimes. I know I don’t feel very “incarnated” a lot of the time. I feel dimly lit but not bursting with the Light that I know Christ is. Do you feel that way, too?

This is why we need this season of waiting. Waiting involves contemplation, listening, hoping, and noticing the signs around us. That is what we do as we practice Advent — we watch, wait, and hope for the light.

But this year, rather than only watching the night sky for a little glimmer of hope or a bright star — what if we also learned to look outward into one another’s faces to see the light? “Let us be light” reminds us that we are those lights that shine. We hope this is true; we encourage one another to shine and give away our light so that others might light up as well. (Think about our Christmas Eve services, when we pass the candlelight, one to another, on that silent night.)

Mission

“Let us be light” is, of course, a call to action and mission. To be light is to show up in dark places and offer help. To be light is to speak truthfully and kindly to one another, helping one another along as we seek the light. To be light is to serve others, hoping that we might all reclaim and rediscover God’s beautiful light in each of us, the Light of the World now dwelling in human flesh.

This season, we will examine what it means to “be light.” We’ll hear the stories of prophets and shepherds, pregnant women and frightened men. And we’ll remember that we are to be that light now, carrying on and living out God’s mission of bringing light…the good news…of great joy…to all people!

Let’s close with the fig tree image from our text.

Hear again from Mark 13:28-37

Mark 13:28–37 NRSV

28 “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. 32 “But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33 Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34 It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35 Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36 or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37 And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

The fig tree image teaches us to notice, to pay attention to the signs.

Even as we wait, we get glimpses of what is dawning, rising.

In the same way, as we think of what it means to be light this season, we have a sense. Don’t we?

When I say, Let us be light…what do you think of?

Do you think of the ways you can be that light?

Maybe you wonder how you could be, you’re not all that lit up, like I mentioned before.

The deep truth here is that God has put this light in us, this light that is for all creation. Sometimes, it’s easier for us to see. Sometimes, it’s less clear. But deep in us, we have this light. We have this hope, this glimmer. It’s not even something we made, something we conjurred up, but rather it is the embedded image of God in us, ready to shine forth. Do you believe this? That you bear the image of your creator? That like the dawning of light, there is something in you to shine out into the world?

If we can start this season of Advent seeking for that light, we will be on the path. We seek it in ourselves, so that we might share our gifts with the world. AND we learn to see it in each other.

If we are waiting on the platform for the train to come, but stop paying attention to the signs of the times or the public address system, we might miss the train’s arrival. Because it might come from another direction than we had expected. It might be on the platform behind us, the gate just down the line.

When we learn to be light, when we learn to witness the light of God breaking through, we will be surprised by where it arrives.

God said, let there be light. We see that the stars are falling, the moon and sun are overshadowed. Come, Lord Jesus, come.

And now…we hear it…call of the prophets, the witness of the Scriptures, the dawn of hope whispering to us out of all darkness and despair.

We hear, Let us be light!