Always Winter, Never Christmas

As we enter the end of the year, the perennial discussion of what counts as a Christmas movie inevitably arises. In one of these conversations with family, it was noted that Christmas plays a key role in Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. If you are familiar with the story, then you will be familiar with the White Witch’s curse of “always winter and never Christmas.” It’s a phrase that is particularly applicable to 2020, to the point of perhaps being a bit on the nose. At the very least, it captures what this Christmas season has felt like. The dark, dreariness of winter has come, but the hope and joy seem to be trailing behind.

 

Into all of this comes the season of Advent. In the evangelical world, Advent is often used as a fancy synonym for Christmas. We set aside time to focus specifically on Christ and the Incarnation, but do so with a heavy emphasis on the hope and joy which his coming heralds. This focus is not without reason--after all, the coming of Christ is good news and a key moment in the story of the gospel. Highlighting this fact provides a way to take the cultural joy and celebration which surrounds Christmas and tangibly connect it back to Christ.

 

This approach, though, falls a bit flat in years like this. When the surrounding cultural joy is damped, evangelical Advent also feels flat. When it feels like a season of winter without Christmas, an Advent message of joy seems tone-deaf and forced. Coincidentally, though, I think that this longing for missing joy can lead to a deeper appreciation for the season of Advent and the beauty of Christmas.

 

In more liturgical traditions, Advent is a season of fasting, not celebration. The weeks leading up to Christmas are focused more on the brokenness of the world and ourselves, and how this brokenness leads to the Incarnation. Consider some of the lines from one of my favorite Christmas/Advent hymns, O Come, O Come Emmanuel:

 

“O come, Desire of nations bind

All peoples in one heart and mind;

Bid envy, strife, and quarrels cease,

Fill all the world with heaven’s peace.”

 

Pick up any hymnal (or do a lyric search online), and you will find the same theme running through the entire hymn. The world is broken and hurting and looking for a healing king for restoration and order. Underscoring this is the hymn’s minor key and slow melody. It is a musical embodiment of longing--the longing that is at the heart of Advent.

 

As you might have guessed, I had planned to have these thoughts ready to go in the middle of Advent, not the very end. Still, I hope that they will speak to some. After all, in the last couple of weeks, the world has not become miraculously easier to live in, nor have all concerns completely disappeared. And, if Advent tells us anything, it is that it is good and proper to feel the pain and hurt of the world. Not only is it healthy to recognize and grieve the world's brokenness, but perhaps, this is an especially appropriate time of year to express our grief and longing. Further, this reflection brings us into the second facet of Advent--focusing that longing on the Second Advent. While we may not fully understand what it will look like, we know that Christ will be coming again to complete putting what is wrong to right. As we reflect on the pain and joy surrounding the Incarnation, we should also anticipate and prepare for the joy of Christ’s return. This feels especially fitting for the end of 2020, where our need for Christ is even more apparent than ever. It will not be winter forever--Second Christmas is coming!