Christmas cards are stacking up on our kitchen counter.
Each day our stack of cards grows just a little bit more. Most of these Christmas cards are filled with professional photos, coordinating outfits, smiling faces, and notes about the highlights of 2018. I don’t know about you, but none of the Christmas cards on my kitchen counter seem to resemble my life. And interestingly, none of them seemed to hint at all that 2018 was a hard year for them. Not one single card mentions the death of a family member or a lost job, or mental illness and those smiling faces certainly don’t indicate that there are any struggling marriages.
These Christmas cards are a snapshot of what is “normal” at Christmas time: joy, gratitude, family, gift-giving, laughter, celebrating, baking cookies, and generic holiday cheer. Our culture has set the tone for how to celebrate the Christmas season and if it isn’t happy-go-lucky and covered in sprinkles and red bows…. well, it just doesn’t count.
But, what about those of us who are struggling right now? How do we cope with a season that glorifies the very things we feel devoid of? How do we navigate such a joyful time of year when there is nothing but pain lodged in our hearts? How can we reconcile our depression, loneliness, grief or longing with our culture’s expectation of “Joy! Family! Togetherness! Warm fuzzies!”? Is there a place for the downtrodden and the hopeless during this time of year?
Yes, there is (Phew. Thank you, Jesus). It is called The Longest Night and it just so happens to be December 21st, also known as the winter solstice – the shortest day of the year.
On December 21st, the sun slips below the horizon a little bit sooner and darkness settles over the land a little bit longer. The day seems to be over before it really even began. The shadows on the land melt into nightfall and the fading light seems to identify with those who have walked in darkness this year.
The Longest Night has become a space for those who are grieving, lonely, and struggling during the Christmas season. It’s a day for those of us who are having a hard time in the midst of an otherwise festive season, where we can lament, cry, and express our disappointment and sorrow to God without having to keep a smile on our face.
I think darkness gets a bad rap. So often it is equated with evil, depression, sin, and trouble. Sometimes though, darkness is just the shadow of God’s protective wings. So it is with The Longest Night.
He shrouded himself in darkness, veiling His approach with dense rain clouds.
– 2 Sam 22:12
Clouds and thick darkness are all around Him; righteousness and justice are the foundation of His throne.
-Psalm 97:2
The Longest Night is a place of rest into which we are invited, welcomed, and tenderly loved by the One who knows our pain most intimately. We are safe to shed tears here. We are given permission to sigh deeply and rest our weary hearts here. The covering of night provides a shield and a safe shelter for those of us who have pain and longing. It is in this place that Christ can quietly tend to our wounds while the world around us continues buzzing with excitement and joy.
During this Advent season, it’s ok to not be ok. It’s ok to not have a perfect Christmas card stamped and ready to send out to friends and family. It’s ok to admit that this was a tough year and that you barely made it through. Your pain is real and you are allowed to authentically express it in ways that foster health and healing. Allow The Longest Night to be a grace as you walk through longsuffering and pain. Use this day as an opportunity to be honest with God about where you are at. And as you do, you will draw closer and closer to healing and wholeness that is found in Christ alone.
In Christ, darkness is as bright as the dawn.
Some practical ways to observe The Longest Night:
- Church: Many churches are beginning to offer a Longest Night service on December 21st to help provide a place for those who are struggling during the holiday season. If your church does not offer a service, investigate whether other churches nearby do. I live in a pretty small town and there are at least 5 or 6 churches holding a Longest Night service on December 21st this year. These services are often candlelit and more contemplative in nature, allowing for prayer, reflective time, and space for the Holy Spirit to minister to those hurting.
- Scripture: Psalm 23, Revelation 21, Lamentations 3:19-42, Luke 4:16-22
- Prayer: “God, as this longest night begins, I humbly come before you in my brokenness and pain. Please look upon my sorrow with kindness, upon my despair with compassion. In a season full of lights and action, I find myself slowing to a crawl as the world around me spins with activity. My heart cannot bear the frenzied pace and it is in this long, quiet night that I seek true rest and peace in you, Lord. Tonight, I give you my longings, my sadness, my broken heart, and my affliction (you may list your specific sorrows as well). I pray you would place your healing hand on my wounds and bind them up in the warmth of your love. Lord, I pray that you would allow my sadness to draw me closer to You, a God so acquainted with suffering, that my pain would allow me to know you in a deeper, truer way. In Christ’s Name, Amen.”
- Candle-lighting: light a candle (or several) in remembrance of friends or family members who have died. Light a candle in memory of hopes, jobs, peace, relationships, joy, and dreams that have been lost this year.
- Journaling: Spend some time writing a reflection on the hard things from 2018. Write about the loss. Write about the unanswered prayers. Write about the ways in which things did not go the way you had hoped they might. Offer these reflections up to God, invite Him into the writing process and ask for His comfort as you write.
- Prayer Walk: As the sun sets, walk with God in the twilight. Allow this time to be an opportunity for starting or continuing a conversation about the difficulties you have faced this year. Ask for His strength to help you through the remainder of the Christmas season.
- Boundaries: If you have had a particularly difficult year, it’s ok to use this time to ensure the rest of the Christmas season feels manageable. Give yourself permission to sit on the sidelines if you need to. If that means declining an invitation to a Christmas party, so be it. If it means limiting your time spent with a challenging family member on Christmas Day, more power to you. If it means not putting as much energy into buying gifts for others this year, that’s perfectly fine.
