When I was a kid, I had this tradition on the first day our tree went up. When my parents were wrestling my younger brothers into bed and I finally had the living room to myself, I crawled underneath the tree and lay on my back with my head as close to the trunk as possible. That way it was twinkle lights and greenery as far up as I could see. I felt then as if I was among the stars.
And I think of Abraham now. Without the glow of modern pollution, how many stars did he actually see that night in Genesis 15 when God told him to look up and try to count them? Or in Genesis 22 when God made the promise that his offspring would be as numerous as those stars? Not only that, but his offspring would possess the gate of his enemies and all the nations of the earth would be blessed because of him. Did Isaac also look up and anticipate? Wonder? Doubt? Confer with Yahweh? I close my eyes so that when I open them, the lights will twinkle all the more while my pupils seek to adjust to their sudden presence, from dark to light.
And I think of Isaiah now. He got to see Abraham’s descendants multiply, but there was often little hope as they suffered under the weight of sin. Yet he makes this claim: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Four verses later he speaks of the child being born, and the connection between that human baby the light seems obvious to me in this day. With my face mere centimeters from the lowest lights, I thought of what it would be like to touch light.
And I think of the shepherds in Luke 2 now. What would it have been like to go from black darkness of night to having an angel appear and bringing the full glory of Yahweh with him as he spoke of “good news.” Talk about an eye adjustment. As if that weren’t enough, he was then joined by a “multitude of the heavenly host,” perhaps as many as the stars of Abraham, and they belted out praise, the sound waves of which must have absolutely flattened the shepherds. To their credit, they didn’t hesitate in going to see if the gospel was true: had Abraham’s promised offspring really come?
And I think of John 1 now, who said the following of Jesus: “In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, and countless others did get to see actual light, maybe even touch it. Inevitably, whenever I crawl out from underneath that tree, I can't help but bump into the lights, and I wish I could grasp light, to wrap it up in my fist and call it “mine,” even if just for a moment. But that is precisely the good news. I can hold the light. Actually, I can be the light. For in joining my life to that of Jesus, the offspring through whom all the nations of the earth would be blessed, I become one of those stars of promise that Abraham saw and which the darkness will not be able to put out. That’s what I think of even now as I look up at the sky in anticipation, in advent.
