Advent is here.
We are straining forward each day with anticipation. But still, this season of darkness and yearning is upon me. The early day’s sun retreats leaving a smattering of white twinkling lights strung in rows across the tree like fingerprints. The candle’s flesh is melting down its sides like shedding skin and it flickers like a great hope in the darkness.
I can’t help but feel my depression is an assault on God’s goodness trying to blind me to everything but the most vulgar and ugly parts of the world. There is so much devastation and wreckage and each year at this time I find myself balancing the tender places familiar with a world in grief, in sorrow, and longing, with a world in celebration, rejoicing, and communing with a sent Savior.
How could we not have both?
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