Blue Christmas: a Curse and Two Promises

Today is Blue Christmas. According to the calendar, it is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, and the longest night. 

For many years, I didn’t count the winter solstice as a part of my Advent tradition, but about a decade ago I was introduced to its place in the church calendar with Blue Christmas. 

In the midst of preparing our hearts for Christ’s birth, Blue Christmas is a time to reflect and lament the hurt and brokenness that exists in the world, and acknowledge that our God hears and sees us calling out to Him from our deepest needs. On this side of the Nativity story we know God’s answer comes (past, present, and future) in the form of His Son, prophesied to be the great Light in the Darkness. But tonight we sit in solemn communion with the suffering, the outcast, those in bondage, those in pain.

Maybe that’s you. I know it’s me. We aren’t the ones in charge of measuring hurt and darkness. Each of us comes limping into Advent, desperate for the Light (paraphrasing Annie Downs’ words).

Today is also the fourth Sunday of Advent. Today we light the candle of Love. Love: because the reason that we have Christmas at all is because of God’s deep and redemptive love towards us.

But love and Blue Christmas. What a combination! There are a lot of directions this could go. But I want to reflect on what my pastor taught this morning (to the children sitting on the stage, and the grown-up children sitting in the seats). 

Two stories: one make believe, and one very true.
The message was entitled, “Always Christmas and Never Winter.”

You probably know where this is going.
    
Retold, from C.S. Lewis' The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe:
Four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy found themselves in a mysterious snowy land called Narnia. 

Found wandering (looking for Lucy’s new friend, Mr. Tumnus the faun), Mr. and Mrs. Beaver guide the children safely to their warm dam and begin to tell them about Narnia.

They were in danger, for Narnia was under a curse, put there by the White Witch. It was winter now, and it would be for a very long time. Mr. Tumnus had told Lucy, in Narnia “it is always winter, but never Christmas.”

For us, not only does this conjure up the theological reality of perpetual Advent, a long season of continuous waiting. But as we acknowledge the shift of the seasons, we know the last days of Advent and Christmas itself herald in brighter days, more day-light, and shorter nights. The darkness will literally be cast away by the “dawn of redeeming grace.”

But despite this curse, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver (and all the other animals living in Narnia), did not live without hope. For they carried in their hearts a prophecy about Aslan, their King.

“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”

Even in a land of talking animals, the children were expecting a very different kind of king.

“Aslan is a lion- the Lion, the great Lion” said Mr. Beaver.
"Ooh!" said Susan, "I'd thought he was a man. Is he—quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion." . . .

"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you." 

That story is make-believe. But C.S. Lewis fashioned Narnia’s curse after one that is very, very real. The very curse, that God sent His son to break.

The scene is set: The whole world is living under the curse of sin, sadness, and death.
But the people of God do not live without hope. For they also carried in their hearts a promise:

1 The desert and the parched land will be glad;
    the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, 2 it will burst into bloom;
    it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
    the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the Lord,
    the splendor of our God.

3 Strengthen the feeble hands,
    steady the knees that give way;
4 say to those with fearful hearts,
    “Be strong, do not fear;
your God will come,
    he will come with vengeance;
with divine retribution
    he will come to save you.”

5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened
    and the ears of the deaf unstopped.
6 Then will the lame leap like a deer,
    and the mute tongue shout for joy.
Water will gush forth in the wilderness
    and streams in the desert.
7 The burning sand will become a pool,
    the thirsty ground bubbling springs.
In the haunts where jackals once lay,
    grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.

8 And a highway will be there;
    it will be called the Way of Holiness;
    it will be for those who walk on that Way.
The unclean will not journey on it;
    wicked fools will not go about on it.
9 No lion will be there,
    nor any ravenous beast;
    they will not be found there.
But only the redeemed will walk there,
10     and those the Lord has rescued will return.
They will enter Zion with singing;
    everlasting joy will crown their heads.
Gladness and joy will overtake them,
    and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

(Isaiah 35)

Into this dark world, a baby was born. Fully human and fully God, with a name meaning, the Lord saves.

A curse. Hope at the arrival of promised King. A perfect Savior experiencing brutal, sacrificial death. A demonstration of complete and lasting Love. 

For Jesus Himself said, “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13).

In Narnia, Christmas finally did come. Father Christmas reminded the children it was because Aslan was on the move. But the battle was not over yet. Armed with their gifts (tools, not toys), they said goodbye to Father Christmas as he called, “Long live the true King!”

We are so armed for this world’s battle against evil, surrounded by a cloud of witnesses who have seen war and rumors of wars since the beginning of time. And as we wait (often fearful, mourning, and angry at all the brokenness we see), we are guided by a second promise:

One day soon, the King will come again.
And we will eternally experience the joyfulness of Christmas and never the bitterness of winter.
Sin and death, the frozen wasteland of evil and hatred will be no more.