When Advent Feels Dark

Laura Range reflects on the Israelites' long wait for a Savior, and how their persistent faith and hope can encourage us in the difficult seasons of life.

The end of the year has been full of challenges for us – small ones like an unfinished flooring project on the main level of our home as well as plumbing and roofing issues beyond our skill level. But also more emotional ones like a pregnancy at risk for miscarriage, and a kindergartener scheduled for some scary medical tests with even scarier potential results.

My Advent has been full of fear, heaviness, uncertainty, waiting. It has caused me to reflect on what Advent is really supposed to look like for a Catholic family. Too often I try to "create" Advent for my home – making an atmosphere of outward peace and calm and joyful hope. Lighting candles, singing O Come Emmanuel, making memories with fun activities. While these things are certainly good and beautiful, I'm realizing they can give me a false sense of the purpose of Advent.

For thousands of years, the people of the Old Testament waited for a Savior. They had few details, only a promise. Even when the time came and God became man in the womb of Mary, there was still much uncertainty. Mary and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem without knowing how everything would work out, but the presence of Christ with them was enough. We forget this in our modern-day Christianity sometimes – we speak of hope and anticipation during Advent but the reality is that we already know how and when Jesus came. We know the whole story, whereas the Israelites, including Joseph and Mary, were living it out with the kind of faith that believes the promise even without seeing how it can come to pass. This year I’ve been reading the daily Old Testament readings with this in mind, in awe of the words of persistent hope and faith in a Savior for so many years without any sign of His coming.

As I lay awake at night, questions heavy on my heart about my unborn child or my daughter's medical condition, I wonder if God has been calling me to a deeper experience of Advent this year. If He is reminding me that it's not just about the cozy traditions we enjoy, but if it's about receiving the peace He offers in the midst of uncertainty. The hope that comes from a tenacious belief in the promise that no matter what, He is with us. That if He loved us enough to leave heaven and take on our feeble flesh, He loves us enough to walk with us in every uncertain moment and to give us the deepest peace, healing, and joy possible – whether in this life or the next.

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Advent is not just about the cozy traditions we enjoy, but about receiving the peace He offers in the midst of uncertainty. #catholicmom

Sometimes the end looks different than we thought. The long-awaited Messiah King was born in a stable and grew up poor. He wasn't the powerful earthly conqueror some had hoped for. But He conquered more than that – He conquered death, fear, evil. He showed us that God wants to be our Father and friend, intimately invested in every detail of our lives and working it all for our good. The end of the story was better than Israel could have ever hoped for even if it looked different. I don't know the end of our story but I am holding on to this truth.

Maybe you are walking through your own uncertainty or difficulty this Advent. Maybe for you too it's easier to see the darkness than the beauty of the lit candles in the wreath. If so, would you pray with me that we might have the faith of those long ago who awaited the Savior? That we might walk with Joseph and Mary these last few days of Advent, trusting God's presence with us and believing in His providence even without knowing the details or outcomes.

As we see those four candles flickering, let's speak out loud the Gospel promise that gives hope to even the most difficult of circumstances, the words that will be read on Christmas morning at Mass: