Advent

“Prince of Peace.” The words are so familiar that they often glide past me. Their alliteration makes them easy to say and even easier to overlook. Yet when I pause long enough to consider them, I realize they are filled with astonishing promise and deep joy. Jesus is our Prince—and he is a Prince of peace.

Early one morning while preparing to write this post and reflecting on the relationship between its subject, the Everlasting Father in Isaiah 9, and Jesus’ dialogue in John 14:4-11, a pleasant surprise: an interruption from my oldest daughter waking up especially early. Truthfully, it was a relief to see her, since I always struggle with the kind of circular reasoning found in Jesus’ farewell discourse, and I wanted to ask her a few questions to better understand her experience of me as a father.

Recently, I had the chance to do an overnight silent retreat in Houston. Getting away from the distractions of modern life was a breath of fresh air and gave me a sense of clarity I rarely get. As I walked, journaled, prayed, and read, something became clear: My pursuit of perfectionism and certainty is exhausting me.

The season of Advent invites us to pause in the shadows and look for light. The holidays bring beauty and joy, but they can also heighten loneliness, grief, or anxiety. We are waiting for things to be made right- in our world, in our families, and within our own hearts. In Isaiah 9:1-7, we are told, “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.” I would like to believe that the darkness that is referred to in Isaiah is similar to the darkness that can permeate our days, even in a holiday season.

Christmas didn’t begin in the obscurity of a manger in Bethlehem, but in the mystery of cosmic origins. Our Advent messages this year will give special attention to the perspective of the Apostle John, who had a front-row seat to the life and teaching of Jesus.

What did Mary really know when she welcomed her son into the world? How could she have understood both the magnitude of what he would do for the world and what she would lose as he did it? I think every bone in my body would have screamed out, No. Not my child. Not under any circumstances. Take me instead.