Waiting in the Dark
A quiet Advent reflection on darkness, longing, and the hope that refuses to burn out.
If you’re new here, I’m Lee, a contemplative writer from Nebraska. Each week, I share reflections for those who want to live deeper with gospel intentionality — stories about faith, grief, beauty and paying attention to what matters. If these essays resonate with you, consider becoming a paid subscriber for $5 a month. It means the world to me and makes this work possible.
At this time of year, darkness comes early. And I love it. People often think I’m a bit strange for my love of winter but hear me out. It has more to do with my love of Christmas and my dislike of summer – heat, bugs and sweat.
Advent happens during the darkest time of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. And that makes me think about believers who lived in the 400-year gap between the Old Testament and the New Testament. God was silent. His promised light was coming, but not yet.
For perspective, consider what was going on 400ish years ago. The Mayflower landed at Plymouth in 1620. So, every generation of Americans has lived and died (present company excepted) during the equivalent of the intertestamental period.
Of course, Christians have been waiting for 2,000 years for Christ to return a second time. But he hasn’t left us in complete darkness. He’s left candles behind.
Revelation 1:20 refers to the seven churches as lampstands. Jesus is the light of the world (John 8:12), so the job of the seven churches was to bear witness to the light in a dark place. That’s still the mission for the church today.
For now, we wait in relative darkness with anticipation of the long-promised return of Jesus to consummate his marriage with his bride and right every wrong. We do so as his church, with lit candles in our hands lifted high.
Be Thou My Vision: A Liturgy for Daily Worship by Jonathan Gibson includes a quiet but piercing prayer from William Loehe that’s worth considering: “Grant that I may always lift up unto you holy hands, without fear or doubt, and in full assurance that all my prayers and sighs which come from the heart, are truly heard. Grant also that when my help delays I shall be patient, not dictating to you either time or measure, but to wait and abide your own good time; for you have pleasure in them that fear and put their trust in your mercy.”
Sometimes the darkness brings to the surface unspoken fears, unresolved longings, or the places where we, too, are waiting for God to speak. But waiting is often the gospel way, inviting us to draw closer to the gentle whisper of the Father, even as we wait for Christ to return in glory, trusting that he’s in complete control.
When darkness threatens to overwhelm you, remember … we see light more clearly in darkness.
It’s not too late to order my advent devotional Experiencing Christmas. With readings for every day in December, the book provides your family with food for thought, prayer starters, Christmas carols to sing and ideas for meaningful family activities. Pick up your copy today.
If you enjoy these essays, you might also enjoy one of Lee’s books. When he isn’t writing essays, devotional books or Christian fiction, he is a freelance editor, as well as a freelance journalist who has written hundreds of articles for various newspapers and magazines. He’s also a fan of NASCAR, baseball, tennis, books, movies and coffee shops.
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Just what I needed to remember today! Thanks for the encouraging Word!
As you already know, I'm NOT a fan of winter. Burr. Double burr tomorrow and Sunday. However, there is one good thing that winter offers with the earlier darkness falling: rest. Once the darkness descends, I'm tucked safely away at home, which means a couple of extra hours of quiet and rest. One of your paragraphs could also read, "For now we rest in relative darkness with anticipation..."