No more let sins and sorrows grow
Nor thorns infest the ground
He comes to make
His blessings flow
-Joy to the World
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace
there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.
-Isaiah 9:6-7
There is always an invitation to fear.
Fear is always with us, always immediately outside the door, always asking to be let in. Day in, day out. Year after year. Breath after breath. Reports of war and terror and unrest and a planet that is tearing itself apart fill our screens and minds. Difficult people and estranged relationships and things said or unsaid, things done and undone, weigh heavy on our hearts. We can also be filled with fear at our own lives, in the confusion and the mundane and the unfulfilled dreams—the sense that this isn't how it was meant to be. We face fear of the unknown in the future before us; we try to leave fear behind with our past choices and circumstances. Fear is always waiting for us.
What is the remedy in a world so dark, in hearts so easily bent? Can there be one, or are we all so tied to fear?
In this season of Advent, we wait. We wait in the dark, we hope in the dark.
We join the ancient practice of preparing our hearts for the celebration of the birth of Jesus. Before a child can be born, there is the long wait. Before a son can be given to us, we had to prepare. Before the Wonderful Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace could come to us, there were years and generations of waiting. Before the government could be put on his shoulder, there was darkness and fear. Before the increase of His kingdom and peace, there was the fear of not knowing. There was only waiting. There was only hoping. We wait with the world and we look forward to the joy of remembering His birth and what it means for all of us.
Fears are transformed in December; we stake our claim that hope and love and the gift of a Savior is stronger and larger than the darkness of our twisted world, of our twisted hearts. Anxieties are put to rest with the birth of a virgin’s son. Disappointments and discouragements are melted in the cry of the newborn King. Hopes are renewed, faith is reborn, and we find our joy in the light of his coming.
So in a kind of wild hope, we set up our lighted Christmas trees. We hang up bright lights around our windows, defying the dark days and long nights. We decorate and bake and shop and plan and celebrate those we love. We reread the ancient Scriptures and remember the story of Jesus’ birth together. We hope and long and yearn for peace—for our friends and family, for our world, and in our own hearts.
And yet, we do not just simply wait in a kind of wishful thinking. We can bring His kingdom to light no matter where we are. We who believe that the government is upon his shoulder, we hold his glory in our hearts and lives and relationships. We who believe Jesus is the Prince of Peace for all—we are called to continuously mirror his joy and reconciliation and love. We cling to this Prince of Peace instead of all our fears. In this way, as the old songs say, both the hopes and the fears of all the years are met in the light of His glory and grace.
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