The people who walk in darkness will see a great light.
Light the Advent candles. Light them, light them. Trim the wicks. Watch the reflections. Sit in the dark and wait. Wait through the long, black night. Wait through the black that gets in your marrow. Wait through the dying, the cries you can’t hear, and the lurching gasp of the last death heaves. Sit through the night and the losses that scrape the sides of a soul, the burning tears that run, run through this night even now. Taste their saltiness and the darkness that seeps in cold at the corners and stains a thousand souls all alone. Wait in the cosmic dark, inhale the black of an endless universe, stare into it and feel the darkness get darker. “Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark,” wrote the American astronomer and astrophysicist Carl Sagan.  That loneliness can envelop you in a loud room full of voices, when you stand at the window and watch the dusk thicken, when you turn out the last light.
But when you turn on the light in an instant the darkness leaves.
What are you doing to turn the light of Christ on for someone this season?