GUEST POST: Carl S. Johnson

Think about the creation story. How the foundations of time began, as poetically recorded in the scriptures.

“Now the earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the surface of the waters.” — Genesis 1:2

It allows for one’s imagination to wander. As an artist, I’ve always been drawn to the mystery of these descriptions—the expanse, the firmament, the separation of waters from beneath and above. We’ve all seen deep sea divers, underwater explorers who attempt to plummet the depths of the ocean floor. It gets DARK down there, and fast.

Because it was dark in the beginning. It all starts in darkness. And there was evening, and there was morning (not the other way around).

Then, think about your origin story. The environment & conditions from whence forth your life started. Our story starts in darkness, too. Your life began as it was being formed inside your mother’s womb. Again, a dark place. But were you scared then? No, probably not. You were just there, existing inside this cramped space that was feeding and growing you, and keeping you alive in some miraculous way. You were safe in this darkness. Imagine coming out this for the first time, and how shocking and blinding the outside light must’ve been.

Then, think about Christ’s birth story. This stunning and otherworldly event, as told in Luke’s gospel. That strange and beautiful and compelling moment in history, when the Word become flesh and dwelt among us.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” —Luke 2: 8-12

Can you picture it now? Can you see how the backdrop for most of the story is the darkness? The magi traveling, following the stars. At night. The shepherds, tending to their flock, hanging out. At night. Mary and Joseph, new parents, holding their precious child – in some Bethlehem manger. At night. Darkness, everywhere. All around.

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” —Isaiah 9:2

Maybe darkness isn’t such a bad thing. It’s simply just that. We’ve been trained to think how darkness can only be associated with bad things—spiritual darkness, movies that are dark and disturbing, things that are corrupt or evil. Not to mention we’re afraid of the dark. I’m not taking about that type of darkness.

When I ponder the darkness, I’m not talking about some evil that’s lurking around a corner, that stirs up fear inside you. I’m speaking plainly about the dark. Night. Pitch black. The absence of light. Like when my family and I went into the Mammoth Caves of Kentucky, and we couldn’t see our hand in front of our face.

It’s also true that during the holidays, and Christmastime in particular, it can be a season of darkness and sadness for many. Maybe you’ve lost a loved one around this time. Maybe you’re battling a deep despair or depression. Maybe you live alone, feel overwhelmed, or are dealing with a troubled past. Perhaps you’ve become jaded, and have come to believe the Christmas story can’t speak to you anymore.

This year, we have friends who went through a divorce. We know someone, an old family friend, who went to prison. My kids have friends who lost their dad to cancer a few months ago.

During Christmas, our churches do their best to celebrate and present the wonder and awe of God’s story. To invite you into it (which is a good thing!) We try to recreate, as faithfully as possible, the story on our various stages. Productions, cute kid’s plays, concerts, living nativities, candlelight services. In the process of it all, we inadvertently get too busy ourselves. We add to the mix of the holiday craziness. We create another event to attend in an already packed & unsustainable schedule.

Over the past month, I’ve spoken to several pastor friends, church staff and volunteers, who have relayed back the same things: I’m tired. I’m busy with too many commitments, parties, and events. I wish I could slow down. I wish I could actually find a moment to breathe and meditate on the birth of Christ. This special, rare moment.

How have we made it so hard on ourselves to do this?

Many of us hope and long for an encounter with Christ, this most precious child. We’d do anything for a genuine moment of peace and joy and clarity. We crave it, especially this year, at this particular moment in history.

This Christmas, I’d like to invite you away from the well-intended stage productions and multi-night performances. Away from the flashing LED lights and limitless distractions. Away from the pressure to buy a perfect gift. Away from the fake holiday decorations and relentless online sales that refuse to leave you alone. Away from all the usual stress that inevitably builds up around this time.

I find we simply need to step away from all this noise, even if but for a brief moment.

So I invite you into the darkness. Into the night. Yes, to go out and find a field, with only the natural light from above to provide any sort of guidance or illumination. The air, crisp and cold. Bonus points if there are animals nearby. With stars dotted and blanketed against the deepest midnight blue you’ve ever seen. I challenge you to leave your iPhone flashlight off.

And wait. Even if for only a few minutes. Breathe. Be alive in this moment, expectant even! This is the whole concept behind Advent, as it were. Stay, linger, tarry…in the darkness. Remember, the dark isn’t bad, it just is. Wait for Christ, in hopes he will meet you here. The greatest present you will receive this year is his presence. I promise you that.

Position yourself. For the unexpected. For something wonderful to happen. To maybe, just maybe, have your night interrupted like those shepherds out in the field so long ago. This could be your Christmas moment. I believe God is always speaking to us…but have we made the time and space for it?

Are you willing to sit in the darkness? In that startling quiet, in the deep stillness—and allow the space for God to meet you there?

---

CARL S. JOHNSON is an artist, poet, and author of several published works. Find out more about Carl at wisdom-drip.com