Imposing, overwhelming, and sometimes surrounded by fire and lightning. The angels appearing on the first Christmas didn’t give off a sense of comfort when they showed up. Their imperative to “Fear not!” was necessary then and throughout all time as they delivered news.
When celestial beings intercept a person’s life, the impetus to fall on one’s face in their presence is the only response. There’s nothing fluffy or cute about their appearances, and I connect those otherworldly ones to stunning purity, unearthly light, and solemn messages, but I never link them to love. They bring messages of love, though, over and over again, because the Message Sender is love.
In the Old Testament, after a prophet of renown collapsed during an angelic visit, the heavenly host said, “O Daniel, man greatly loved, understand the words I speak to you, and stand upright, for now I have been sent to you.”
A man greatly loved. A visit from a messenger of love.
Last Sunday ignited the fourth light of Advent, the Candle of Love, and I’ve thought about love every day since then. The fourth candle is also called the angel’s candle.
Usually, the woman informs the man of a positive pregnancy test, but one day in Nazareth, everything changed. This time, the Father broke the news to Mary—a young woman God deeply loved and favored—through Gabriel, an angel. And after the baby’s delivery, heavenly hosts blasted the announcement to some working shepherds who spread the Word to the world. All the news about the baby came through angels—and it was all about love.
On Christmas yesterday, we basked in the brightness of the fifth candle—the Christ candle—also called the candle of light. The last flame in the Advent wreath.
I contemplated darkness and shuddered; I thought about light and breathed. Both spiritual darkness and light surround us.
On December 21 was the winter solstice: the shortest period of light, the longest night, the deepest darkness. I snapped on more lamps in the house. Each day following winter solstice, though, we see one more minute of light. And it reminds us.
The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.
Maybe we’ve already snuffed out the Advent wreath’s fifth flame and packed away its candles. Fear not; the world is ignited anyway. The Light has come.
Oh, yes, He has.
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*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family, neighbors, and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.