Reader,

Advent is not just a journey towards Christmas Day and the arrival of the Christ Child. For those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere, it’s also a journey towards the shortest—and therefore darkest—day of the year.

This growing darkness is palpable. It’s there when we wake in the morning. It accompanies us on our commutes, whether we’re going to work or returning home. It saps our strength. Our bodies feel the darkness, instinctively prompting us to turn in for the night when it's barely dinnertime.

Many of us actively resist darkness during this season. We light candles. We hang Christmas lights from every nook and cranny. Our homes are ablaze in LEDs, cheerfully defying the descending night.

It is good for us to celebrate light and to declare that the darkness will not win.

And it is also good for us to consider the darkness. Especially the darkness within.

These verses are part of a prophecy uttered by Zechariah the priest. He delivered these words immediately after his son, John the Baptist, was born. For months before that time, Zechariah had dwelt in his own darkness: he’d been made mute because he did not believe Gabriel’s announcement that his wife Elizabeth would give birth to a son in their old age.

Imagine how you would feel if you were suddenly struck silent. If you could not interrupt your thoughts by speaking. Indeed, if you knew that your forced silence was the result of your disbelief.

That is precisely the situation Zechariah found himself in. And yet, that silence was clearly a gift. For when Zechariah’s tongue was given back to him, he erupted into a prophecy of jubilant praise. All the time he spent sitting with himself in silence, reflecting on the darkness within and without, led him to a place of thrilling hope.

As you travel through this week, ask yourself: “What darkness do I need the dawn from on high to break into?”

It could be an unhealthy cope or an addiction. It could be a terrifying diagnosis. It could be uncertainty about your future or worries about your kids. It could be a longing for connection, or love, or peace. The possibilities are endless.

This question is far from easy to ask, let alone sit with. But if we’re not willing to be curious and name the darkness we face, how do we know to look for a light? How can we hope to be guided into the way of peace if we don’t first acknowledge our need?

Take heart by considering Zechariah’s story in Luke 1. Name your darkness and share it with your loving Father, that He might speak into it and give you the courage to trust Him to bring you light.

This week's email is adapted from our new Advent + Christmastide Program. If you haven't downloaded it yet, check it out today. Along with these reflections, it includes daily reflection pages to help you celebrate this season and open your heart to the Spirit's prompting. Get your free copy here.​