One of the phenomena of our age, which was simply unknown at the time of Jesus’ birth, is the amount of light which we live with.

Electricity has enabled us to live with the light on 24hrs a day. Life in today’s cities, and even suburban areas, is one where total darkness doesn’t exist as there is always light somewhere. Our consumer culture ensures that we can work more and spend more, even as we approach the shortest day.

At the time of Jesus’ birth you wouldn’t need to go far to find yourself in the blackness of night and to experience real darkness. Travelling by night was dangerous because you couldn’t see where you were going, or what dangers were lurking around in the blackness. Work stopped way before sundown and winter nights were not for going shopping.

But inasmuch as the darkness of night was an all-surrounding experience on the ground, the night sky was a different matter altogether. The darker the night at ground level, the more spectacular and brighter the night sky would appear to the observer.
This image of the surrounding darkness being broken by raising your eyes heavenward was not lost on ancient civilisations and cultures. The gods were seen as ‘up there’ whilst humanity fumbled around in the darkness ‘down here’.
Astronomers and astrologers have been observing, measuring, tracking the stars for millennia looking for meaning and seeing things in the sky that are all but lost to us in our age of incandescent lights.

Three magi to the east of Bethlehem were so meticulous in their study of the stars that they noticed when a remarkable new star appeared in the sky.
If you’ve ever seen the night sky when stood in a truly dark place (I have) then you see just how many stars there are visible to the naked eye – countless billions. Looking through any kind of telescope multiplies this number by several orders of magnitude, so it was truly impressive for the magi to spot this new star.

The star must have been remarkable because they tracked it and then followed it believing it to be a sign of something, or someone, important about to enter the world.
In the midst of a dark world they saw a twinkling light which changed their lives as they followed it in search of what it was going to illuminate and expose by its tiny light.

2,000 years on and for us the darkness is obscured by light. We are constantly bombarded by light so we never notice the contrast between light and darkness or get used to a scene in which we can spot a change as tiny and as distant as a twinkling star.

It was into this darkness 2,000 years ago that the Light of heaven descended.
When you are used to the darkness, any amount of light is impressive, and the brighter the light, the more it contrasts with the darkness.
And like the magi, the more you are aware of the detail of your daily scene, the more you notice when something new appears.

This Advent may the constant light of our consumer culture not obscure the darkness which frames the small twinkling light of Jesus’ coming.
May you notice the new light of Jesus’ appearing in the same patterns and forms of our present age as He continually brings something new into this world.
May you, like the magi, follow the Light to the place of worship in the midst of the darkness of this world.

“What a strange place to put such a special baby”.
These were the words of my 7yr old daughter when considering Jesus being laid in a manger. I later discovered she was quoting a line from her upcoming school Christmas play, but the line struck a chord.

It is indeed a very strange place to put such a special baby.
But that is perhaps the point. The two ways in which the power of the universe – the Logos – could have entered this world in a noticeable way would have been to either come in splendour and glory, a bit like the angelic host appearing to the shepherds, or in a remarkably understated and strange way, a bit like being laid in a manger. He chose the latter. And that was the point.

When the first angel appeared to the shepherds he said, “And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” Luke 2:12 ESV
The ‘strange place’ becomes the sign.

The shepherds quickly found the baby and the manger and it seems that the manger wasn’t so strange to them and helped them go directly to where the baby might be.
In contrast the heavenly apparition of the angels was strange and filled them with fear, but the ‘strange place’ of the manger was neither strange nor fearful.
It was a place of great joy which resulted in wondrous worship.

Is our response to Jesus being laid in the manger one of strangeness and surprise, or a place where we know we can find the One we’re searching for?

This Advent may the ‘strange place’ of the manger be a place of discovery.
May you find your saviour, not in the familiar and safe places, but in the unfamiliar and unexpected places.
May it be a sign to you, as it was for the shepherds, that leads you to the place where you will find Him.

Advent is all about waiting. Waiting for a ‘coming’, for an arrival.

For most of us the focus is on the immediate, near future; the 24-day countdown to the ‘arrival’ of Christmas Day.

For Christians the focus tends to be more on the past with the arrival of the Logos coming into the world, taking on skin and fat and becoming the newborn baby we know as Jesus of Nazareth, born in Bethlehem.

Whilst both of these foci of Advent are valid and good, there’s another focus which is equally valid, and arguably far more exciting.
This is the Advent of Jesus coming again to bring this age to a close and to establish, forever, the life to come in the age to come. It’s integral to our understanding of who Jesus is and what He has done for us that He returns. It’s the natural end to a supernatural reality of resurrection. It reminds us that Jesus isn’t just a Divine entity from another realm, but that He also remains today the wounded flesh-and-blood man who resurrected from the dead.
If His first Advent was significant because God became like one of us, then His second Advent is significant because now we become like Him; the “perishable putting on the imperishable”.

This Advent, may you awaken to the truth that God became like you so that you might become like Him.
May you find yourself waiting for His coming with joyful anticipation and expectation.
May you know that He who began a good work in you will bring it to perfect shalom.