Christmas Guest Post #3: Erin and Anna Teske

"PRESENT"

Present with Your presence
Remembering the silence, the promise, the waiting, the hope
Emmanuel is finally
here.
among us.
Sleeping but not asleep.
Earth expectant...ready.
in murmured, pleading worship.
Now. And here. Hear and bow.
Tiniest of packages contains the fascinating weight of eternity

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I have known Erin my entire life, and Anna I've known for all of hers. Erin is my oldest sister and is hands down the most creative person I have ever known. Anna, her youngest daughter, is one of the most driven. A mom of three girls, Erin is currently a preschool teacher at a private Christian school in Frederick, MD. Anna is completing her senior year at the same school and is currently candidating for both the Naval Academy and Air Force Academy. They wrote this acrostic poem on their drive from Maryland to Chicago last week. Talk about beautiful mother-daughter bonding over things that matter!

Darker than the Darkest Darkness

...but brighter than the brightest star.

When I was in high school, my youth group would go to a summer camp in the mountains of West Virginia. For one week we rock climbed and repelled, white water rafted, mountain biked, high ropes coursed, and did a number of various other adventures. It is insane to me now that parents would trust a group of 50 teenagers to stand at the edge of a cliff in the remote Appalachain mountains with no one but peers and dreamy camp counselors (I promise, he looked just like Brad Pitt) to help curb life-threatening indiscretions, but I'm pretty sure we all made it out ok. Alive, at least.

There was one adventure at this camp where the oh-so-wise-and-mature college kids would take a group of only-slightly-less-wise-and-mature youth kids into the mountain caverns with nothing but some snacks and head lamps (and, I have to believe, a first aid kit). During this underground journey there was a point where all of the people would gather in one of the larger caves and situate themselves in a circle. Then at the count of three, the leaders instructed everyone to turn off their head lamps together.

Darkness.

Like, real darkness. Before, it was possible to feel the cold and damp of the cave and smell the cold and damp of the cave, but now it was as if you could see the cold and damp of the cave because you could see nothing else. You could hold your hand an inch in front of your eye and not even discern a basic outline. You could hear the unsteady breaths of your companions, but could not discern at all how close they were to you. There is darkness, and then there is empty, cold, oppressive darkness that somehow seems to extend forever and at the same time feels like it is closing in around you.

I, of course, did not sign up for this particular adventure because I value my life and sanity. Spend 4 hours squeezing myself through narrow crevices as we venture deeper and deeper into the mountain, with nothing but an oh-so-wise-and-mature college kid to guide me back to sunlight? No thank you. Have you even heard of Moria? I know what happens in the deep places of the world.

Balrogs and claustrophobia aside, there is actually a part of me that wishes I could have been there for that single moment. I can picture it vividly in my mind, but I wish I had felt it. My eyes have never seen such darkness.

There is a sense, though, in which we have all felt that cold, damp, unending yet constricting darkness. Our souls, in fact, know it well. The emptiness, the oppression, this is who we are in our deepest core. Starting in chapter 3 of humanity's story, the darkness has been our spiritual home. Like that single minute that felt like twenty inside that West Virginia cavern, the souls of man cannot see even an inch beyond ourselves.

This is why the story of Christmas does not start in the New Testament. It is not Matthew's genealogy or the angel's appearance to Zechariah that introduces us to the Messiah. The story of Christmas starts all the way back in the Garden of Eden where the lights were first turned out. When Adam and Eve decided that God should not be the only god (a decision, by the way, I would have also made given the chance), the same thing happened in the Garden that my friends experienced in the cave.

Darkness.

Communion with God was broken. Delight in worship was shattered. Innocence was voluntarily surrendered, and the light in the souls of men was immediately blackened to a cold, damp, unending yet constricting darkness. There was no gradual fade. From light to dark as quickly as the flip of a headlamp switch.

I think it is so important to start the Christmas story here in the darkness, because the darkness sets the stage for the light. In the same way that emerging from the cold depths of a mountain cavern brought a new appreciation, understanding and welcome of the midday sun, my soul needs to know just how dark and hopeless it was without the bright advent of Christ. My dark soul that is darker than the darkest darkness of a West Virginia cave is in brilliant contrast to the bright light of the condescension of the very Son of God.

When Jesus left the glory of heaven to enter into this empty, cold, oppressively dark place, God pierced the night with the light of a brilliant star. From the fields of Judah to the ends of the earth, its bright rays sliced through the dark sky to direct people toward the temporary home of a humble couple. As the weary parents wrapped their baby in strips of cloth, for the first time ever the eyes of mankind that had been darkened by sin met the eyes of God, bright with the Light of life. Though their souls were as dark as a West Virginia cave, as dark as my own heart, they cradled the Light of the world, God with us. The light of that star could be seen from the corners of the world, but its brilliance could not compare to the radiant light that lay in the manger.

Zechariah, whom God had chosen to be the father of the Messiah's forerunner understood the depth of the darkness the world has known since our chapter 3, and the brilliance of the dawn that was about to come. He described the coming of the Messiah in this way. "The rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace." (Luke 1:78b-79)

Ever since death entered the picture in Genesis 3, mankind has dwelled in the darkness of its shadow, but throughout the Old Testament God promised a future light that would once again shine in the souls of men.

Our souls, by themselves, are dark. They are darker than dark. They are darker than the darkest darkness. Do not be buried by this concept, but do not dismiss it either. After dwelling in the empty, cold, oppressive shadow of death for a moment, direct your eyes to the brilliant light of the rising sun and be awed anew at the magnificence of that light. That Light that shines brighter than the brightest star has stepped into the darkness, as promised, to shine in the souls of men.

What a stunning sunrise!

Long lay the world in sin and error pining
till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices
for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees!

Christmas Guest Post #2: Julia Sifers

"Christmastime is here."

Christmas is my favorite. Absolute favorite. If I sit down and think about why, my thoughts get all tangled up, like last year’s twinkle lights, because of all the giddiness. There’s just so many reasons and they’re all pretty fantastic! So, as we do with tangled lights, it’s easier to go one knot & twist at a time.

First Tangle: The trees & twinkle lights. I know some people are all about Santas or Snowmen but I’m an Evergreen girl. There’s something about the deep lush green, covered with the brightening of white snow lights or those bows covered in colored twinkles like glowing sprinkles. There’s a warmth to the contrast.

Next Knot: The food & togetherness. Christmas feasts can look like the spread from a Christmas Carol with the Ghost of Christmas Present, but to me its a conglomeration of comfort foods (A tray of Chick-Fil-A nuggets can beat a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth). A feast can be a solo event, but it implies a gathering, and that’s another element of Christmas that I utterly adore: togetherness. It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s imperfect. But there’s good food, cuddling, laughing and so so much remembering of old times, good times and what we are really thankful for. That whole reason for this season: Jesus’ birth. It’s one thing to get excited about something, but for this extrovert, getting excited with people enhances the thrill, and the togetherness element is no exception at Christmastime.

Another twist in the wrinkles of twinkles: the polar opposites. The Polar Express isn’t the only “Polar” part of Christmas. Neither are the dark green branches and the bright white lights… there’s also Rest & Busyness and elements of Depth & Shallowness. Rest is a favorite. We have this tradition in my house, when we get home from any errands or out-of-the-house activities everyone runs upstairs to put on comfy pants. Comfy pants are a great start to rest. And over the holidays there are days off, and sleeping in (sometimes) or an occasional nap. And it’s a good thing we can too, because Christmas is a busy time! Parties, and shopping and the hustle and bustle… but without those the rest would feel pointless and without the rest we’d have no energy for a Christmas Eve service, and last minute shopping dashes. We need the polar opposites! Same is true with the depth and shallowness. I’m ALL for the real meaning of Christmas. Advent Season is literally something I look forward to all year, as we remember what Jesus has done for us. All the layers of build up and intentionality that He exemplified as the Messiah. It’s the best, and nothing can beat it. But I also love the classic claymation movies, and giggling as we blow tinsel on the tree, driving around neighborhoods looking at the light decorations on people’s homes… none of that really ‘matters’ but I think it's another essential opposite. It really is good to hold depth and a little meaningless fun at the same time.

In the end, the Final Tangle in the Lights: The Traditions. This is the biggest one, kind of the heart of what makes Christmas my favorite. The combination of how old traditions can be and how customizable they are to each family is incredible. I truly delight in hearing the stories of what families do each year and why. Some families get Christmas Pjs, or volunteer at Soup Kitchens, or travel… the silly and important ways we chose to spend our Christmastime are all so different, but they are saturated in meaning.

I love Christmastime, as it reminds me of what matters. Whether you do Christmas with flare, or keep it simple, to quote Dr. Seuss: “And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so? It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”

I hope as you untangle your lights, deck the halls, seek all comfort & joy, merry & bright, that your heart is drawn to the start, the simple, the beauty that was in that first Christmas. That “little bit more” is what it’s all about.

Merry Christmas!

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Julia is a dear friend from college who has amazingly become a better friend as time and distance between us has grown (thank you, Marco Polo!). Julia loves to use her writing to encourage and challenge others, always with an element of fun. And I say honestly that she probably loves Christmas more than anyone else I know.

Along with writing, Julia has a love for photography, and is also currently captaining a book launch for the book She Speaks Stories. To hear and see more from Julia, find her on Instagram and Facebook at @thehappychaos, at the podcast She Speaks Stories where she serves as a story curator, and check out the book launch she is captaining on Instagram at @KatieMHawkins.