Sunday December 21st, 2025 Worship

Well, I know that I normally preach an accidentally sad sermon for Christmas and Easter, so I decided to move it up a few days this year! All joking aside, there has been an increasing acknowledgement of the ways that the holidays are not just celebratory for everyone, despite the Christmas music playing in stores starting at Halloween and the images of presents under the tree that every other TV ad shows. As much as we might like it to, the holiday doesn’t just magically heal all of the pains and hurts of the world. War doesn’t cease, illness continues to spread, grief isn’t just put in a box for a few days, and the tears come sometimes whether we would like them to or not.
And, right before Christmas, we also get the winter solstice, which means we have the day with the least amount of sunlight, which certainly doesn’t help how we are feeling, especially if you struggle at all with the Big Dark (as we call it in the PNW). Because of these realities, there has been a movement in churches to hold services for the Longest Night, also sometimes called Blue Christmas. So, thank you for embarking on their experimental journey with me, where we blend the 4th Sunday of Advent and the Longest Night, to embrace the fullness of who we are, as we wait for the Lord and recognize that the joy of Christmas meets us in our realities, as messy and complicated as they may be.
Today marks this beautiful alignment of our calendars, wherein the 4th Sunday of Advent is the same day as the Longest Night. And, I love the way these two services blend together! As we hear, on this day with the least amount of sunlight, “What has come into being in the Word was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does did not overtake it” (John 1: 3b-5). The light and the darkness intermingle; the presence of God is there in the midst of all the challenges and hardships, as both realities co-exist together. The light doesn’t overpower the darkness and completely get rid of it, nor does the darkness consume the light. It’s a powerful visual reminder of the way that joy and sadness intermingle in the reality of our lives as well.
The 4th Advent candle that we lit today represents joy, so we celebrate this joy, recognizing that it doesn’t show up when it is most convenient or once everything is perfect. The joy doesn’t wait for us to have tied the last ribbon on the present or packed away all of our emotions neatly in boxes to take out after the New Year. This joy shows up in the middle of the mess, as we are seeking a way forward. This joy meets us like the light meeting the darkness. The joy doesn’t cover up all the pain and grief, for us or for the holy family because I can almost guarantee that Mary wasn’t feeling super joyful through all of this, but accompanies us on our journey. It offers a spark of hope for us to hold onto when it feels like we cannot find our way in the darkness.
As we enter into these last few days of Advent, the waiting can start to feel impossible. While the rest of the world is already deep in the midst of Christmas celebrations, we in the church continue our waiting for a few more days. I know that when we are most in need, it becomes extra difficult to wait. And, this mixture of hope and expectation, combined with our impatience, is a very real combination of emotions that we are feeling when we are waiting for the Lord.
We are waiting for God-with-us; God who is present in the weariness, joy, grief, and laughter of our realities. We are crying out for God to be attentive to our needs, to listen when we cry. In our lament, we are imploring God to be the God we have been promised; the one who understands us and accompanies us through all of life. The same God that the Psalmist cries out to today too (Psalm 130: 1-8). This feels extra noticeable this year as wars continue, as rain continues to fall and the flood waters continue to rise, as more people are experiencing homelessness and food insecurity, and as grief compounds. It feels like our cries are growing louder and louder each year, as we want Jesus to show up and to turn the world around already!
Yet, in this reading from John’s Gospel, we are also told that from God, we receive “grace upon grace” (John 1: 16b). And while we often think about grace in terms of forgiveness, grace is so much bigger than that. Grace isn’t just something offered to us when we have done something wrong, but is a source of comfort and a call for rest when we need it most. This grace can be like the light coming from the candles we will light at the offering of light, but it can also be someone reminding us to sleep or offering us a meal. Grace can be loud like the cries of a newborn child, or it can be soft and gentle like when we sit and feel our breath or the tears falling down our cheeks. Grace is something that is present for us in all of life, like the light that shines in the darkness. It may not make everything better, but it is a constant reminder of God’s presence in the midst of all of the human experience. Even when the darkness and pain feel all-consuming, there is still a light shining within each of us. We may be waiting to celebrate again the birth of Christ, but God is already among us now, offering us this grace upon grace.
So this day, we are reminded of the grace that God gives us to be fully human. To grieve, to dance, to sing, to cry, to laugh, to embrace the fullness of what it means to be embodied in this world. The holidays will look different for each of us, but the grace upon grace abounds for all of us, and all of us. May you trust that God goes with you this and every day, as we continue our waiting in hope and joy. This joy that disrupts, but doesn’t cover up. That doesn’t ask us to put on a mask of happiness in order to trust that the promises are true. But, because the promises are true, enables us to show up in the fullness of our identity, offering our spark of light as hope amidst the overwhelming feelings of the world. Seeing how we are not alone; we never have been, and we never will be. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does did not overtake it” (John 1: 3b-5).