And in the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields, and keeping watch over the flock by night. And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which shall be for all people…” {Luke 2:8-10 NASB}
I’ve known the glory of the Lord, but it’s been absent for a while. I keep wondering if it’s dimmed. Maybe I averted my eyes. Or did I only know the glory of daylight hours — a lesser glory perhaps?
One week out from Christmas, and these days are dark. Unholy. Glory-less. The twinkling lights continuously mock the midnight-darkness of my soul.
Still I carry on, tending to children and gifts and baking and all things Christmas . . . because I can’t wish away the darkness. I simply must keep watching and tending during the darkest hours.
Is this hope — knowing the darkness will eventually come to an end?
This feels like the being on the edge of a cliff, the chasm between death and life: eyes peeled wide open in the still of the night, watching for wolves that would destroy the weak, and impatiently waiting for morning.
Is THAT when the glory of the Lord suddenly appears? Is it in the darkest of dark nights, to the lowliest of the lowly that the glory breaks through the darkness bringing joy?
Oh, God, the nights are long and dark. We’re multi-tasking through the mundane even as we keep watch for the enemy that would destroy us. Hope is but an ember from an extinguished flame. We’re impatiently waiting for morning, for an escape from the darkness. Throw open the heavens and break into our darkness. Show up in our midnights and blind us with good news of great joy.
