Yesterday was the Winter Solstice, here in the
northern hemisphere. As of some point yesterday (the precise moment varying
from year to year) the turn and tilt of Earth inclines us towards the light.
For months, we have been drawn to darkness; now, we are drawn to light. There
is, of course, no moral judgement here: light and dark are both alike elements
of God’s creation, intended to complement one another; though, perhaps,
provoked to jealousy—the day of the moon’s dignified and mesmerizing beauty,
the night of the sun’s bold warmth—by some wounding fallen angel of light;
perhaps in need of the Word that restores them to their purposed harmony.
Luke tells the story of Jesus’ birth from Mary’s
viewpoint. Matthew, from that of Joseph. John tells it from the perspective of
the heavens. This Son is a light-source, that shines in the absence of light,
and the darkness has not taken possession of it. The Day is coming, and the
light-source of the Day is the Sun of Righteousness. But the light-source is
firstly that which shines in the dark, the Moon that reflects the radiance of the
sun without blinding those who gaze directly upon it. This Word that is with
God and is God is ‘Moon,’ reflecting the unbearable dazzling brightness of the
Father. Here is Mary’s egg, that will not wax and wane in a twenty-eight-day
cycle, but will shine in the fullness of glory, always facing the Light, never shying
away.
And to all who believed in him, he has given power to be
suns and moons, lights to light the day and the night. Not erased by unending
day, nor gripped fast by over-reaching night. Christ is our Moon and Sun. We
are as suns and moons, set free to love the day and the night, the bright days
and the hours, or months, of darkness. Empowered to know their own distinctive
hallowedness.
May you come to Love the dark as much as the light;
for it was in the dark that our Light first shone. There is loveliness here,
that draws us near to Him.
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