We're pulling out Christmas decorations in the Anderson house and invariably, tucked away in the nether-regions of large plastic bins, we'll find half-used candles from years past whose services we did not need once the holiday season was over. Cinnamon, apple spice, mistletoe: scents which are wonderful in December but somehow seem out of place from January to November. In our house, these are Christmas candles. These candles draw us into the joy, excitement and nostalgia of the Christmas season, and when that season is over we tuck them away so they can be enjoyed all over again in eleven months.
By and large, this is the function that candles serve for us today. Candles offer aroma, ambience, aesthetics. And so it can be difficult to look at the candles of Advent and to see something other than a beautiful, lighted wreath whose presence in worship is one among many trappings of the Christmas season.
But imagine a world without light. More specifically, imagine a world without light bulbs. When night falls, the darkness is complete. The only light available is the flame of a candle or torch, which may offer enough light for a few steps. Candles are a necessity, the only way to keep the darkness at bay. In a world without light, darkness is real.
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:5).
As we watch the light of the Advent wreath grow week by week, remember that we wait for the light of Christ to enter into the darkness of this world—into the darkness of our lives. The darkness is not a literal darkness, but it is real all the same, and Christ is the only way to keep the darkness at bay.
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