Welcome the Wind

As believers in modern times, we often take our salvation for granted. We don't tend to think about what salvation looks like; what it really means. But the prophets of old, as 1 Peter tells us, marveled at what salvation would look like, and who it would actually be for. Could they even picture us, living in the 21st century?

Here is the passage:

Concerning this salvation, the prophets, who spoke of the grace that was to come to you, searched intently and with the greatest care, trying to find out the time and circumstances to which the Spirit of Christ in them was pointing when he predicted the sufferings of the Messiah and the glories that would follow. It was revealed to them that they were not serving themselves but you, when they spoke of the things that have now been told you by those who have preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven. Even angels long to look into these things. – 1 Peter 1:10-12

These are not usual Christmas verse. In fact, they seem to direct our gaze towards Jesus’ suffering and glory (death and resurrection). But all of this is for us. The cross was not the first moment of Christ’s suffering. He lowered himself into our lives—full of pain, suffering, and loss. It is one of the great mysteries: that we share in his suffering because He first joined us in ours.

When God answered the centuries-long prayers of Israel by sending His son, He was knowingly allowing his children to encounter a long list of hard things. Yet the hiccups in the Nativity story don’t often faze us. 2000 years later, they don't seem like a big deal. But if you've ever struggled with a season God has you in (raise your hand if you're human), then you know. The little things all matter. Zechariah's muteness; Mary's shame; Joseph's uncertainty; the long, hard journey to Bethlehem; nowhere to stay once they reached Joseph’s hometown; having to rest among smelly animals; no one to help Mary deliver her baby; having to receive unexpected guests; the Wise Men encountering an unfriendly King Herod; Mary and Joseph having to flee to Egypt, and the list could go on. Those are just some of the things that Scripture records. But every bit of struggle, inconvenience, and hardship is important to the narrative.

I don’t think the prophets would have been surprised. They served a God who didn’t wipe away calamity but walked through it with them. The people of the Old Testament—even having to rely upon priests and prophets—understood the concept of Immanuel much better than we do; much better than first century Israelites did as well.

But if we stop and think, each of our salvation stories (the big S salvation, and the daily act of “working out our salvation with fear and trembling”) reflects the road Christ took. Even before His birth, the road was fraught with both “suffering and glories.”

Sometime this past summer I listened to author KJ Ramsey speak on a podcast. She told the story of a biodome in Arizona, a man-made biosphere meant to research the possibility of sustaining life on a far flung planet. The plants were growing well and quickly, but one thing the scientists neglected to include: wind. You see, the trees grew so tall, yet their roots were under-developed. Trees need wind. The push and the pull, and sway and the rustle of leaves actually strengthens the tree’s root system. The struggle is necessary for a strong tree.

So too with humans. That is the beauty of the Nativity story. It reminds us to welcome the wind. And to trust that God knows and sees the gales He is leading us through. For His glory and our good.

The Insignificance of Bethlehem

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah,
    who are too little to be among the clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
    one who is to be ruler in Israel,
whose coming forth is from of old,
    from ancient days.
Therefore he shall give them up until the time
    when she who is in labor has given birth;
then the rest of his brothers shall return
    to the people of Israel.
And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the LORD,
    in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God.
And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great
    to the ends of the earth.
And he shall be their peace.
- Micah 5:2-5a

Bethlehem.
A logical next step after talking about Ruth… and David.

Why was it so significant that Jesus was born in Bethlehem? Why wasn’t he born in Nazareth where Mary and Joseph were living at the time?

Throughout Scripture, we see that lineage is important. It was important to the patriarchs and remained so at the time of Mary and Joseph. Matthew even took great pains to accurately record Jesus’ ancestry at the beginning of his gospel.

An easy answer is that the prophecies said so. This passage, Micah 5:2, but also
2 Samuel 7:12-16, Jeremiah 23:5-6, and finally the familiar Isaiah 11—where it talks about a shoot from the stump of Jesse—all refer to a righteous king who will come from David’s line.

But why did God choose Bethlehem? I think one answer lies in the picture we see emerging from the beginning of Micah 5. Paula Gooder writes, “The word that Micah uses to describe Bethlehem literally means ‘insignificant’ or ‘youngest’ and seems to be a deliberate reference to David, who was himself the most insignificant and youngest of the brothers. True kingship, Micah seems to be saying, lies in the humble, insignificant roots of David, not in the arrogant, power hungry courts of the king (p. 70)

The Messiah, though a king, was to have humble beginnings, a Shepherd even. He was to be a ruler like David. But the Davidic line was tied directly to the lowly place of Bethlehem, the “house of bread,” not the royal courts of Jerusalem.

Paula Gooder concludes, “This prophecy is not so much a romantic reminder of the special place of Bethlehem in God's plan, as it is a radical proclamation of the unsettling truth of God's plan for the world; a plan that insists on justice, steadfast love, and on walking with God in humility” (p. 72).

Jesus could have been born on the side of the road between Nazareth and Joseph’s hometown, but God loves weaving a rich plan of redemption too much for the symbolism of Bethlehem to go to waste.

In Bethlehem we see the birth of a servant king. It is the manifestation of Immanuel—a Savior—that God had been planning since the beginning. And along the way, He handpicked “young” and “insignificant” players such as we, to join in the telling. Thanks be to God.

Into the Mess

“To practice Advent is to lean into an almost cosmic ache: our deep, wordless desire for things to be made right and the incompleteness we find in the meantime.” –Tish Harrison Warren

Enter Isaiah chapter 9:

But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish. In the former time he brought into contempt the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the latter time he has made glorious the way of the sea, the land beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the nations.

The people who walked in darkness
    have seen a great light;
those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
    on them has light shone.
You have multiplied the nation;
    you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
    as with joy at the harvest,
    as they are glad when they divide the spoil.
For the yoke of his burden,
    and the staff for his shoulder,
    the rod of his oppressor,
    you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
    and every garment rolled in blood
    will be burned as fuel for the fire.
For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon[d] his shoulder,
    and his name shall be called[e]
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Of the increase of his government and of peace
    there will be no end,
on the throne of David and over his kingdom,
    to establish it and to uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
    from this time forth and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

If anyone knew darkness, it was David’s ancestor Ruth. Things in her life went from bad to worse, yet her (and Naomi’s) story is woven with strands of light that can only be acknowledged as God moving in the midst of their suffering.

In her book, The Meaning is in the Waiting, Paula Gooder comments on this passage of Isaiah: “Isaiah knew that the disaster awaiting Judah—a disaster largely of their own making—had to be faced in the knowledge that woven into it and beyond it were signs of hope” (p. 62).

Graciously, Ruth and Naomi saw hope in their own lifetime. They were saved through the lovingkindness of a kinsman redeemer—their deepest needs fulfilled because of Boaz’ commitment to his covenant. Does that sound familiar? Indeed, Boaz is one of many Old Testament characters pointing the way to Christ.

God sent His son to step into the mess with us; into the burdens, the fears, the wastelands. He didn’t sweep it away or start the world over again as with the flood. He sent a redeemer. To make right the cosmic ache the world had known since sin entered Eden.

Gooder continues, “As is so often the case, Jesus fulfills these ancient prophecies in a surprising way, and it is through weaving light into the shade of our present world that he evokes wonder by the wisdom of his counsel (Wonderful Counselor), shows the power of God in the world (Mighty God), cares eternally just like a parent (Everlasting Father), and is the source of all well-being for God's people (Prince of Peace).”

Jesus daily fulfills Isaiah’s prophecy by embodying these attributes, but so often we cannot see them. It is blinding work living in a despairing world. Advent is about readjusting our eyes in the darkness so we can see more clearly. The prophets can show us the way. They knew a thing or two about hoping and waiting for God in the dark.

Expecting the Light

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. (John 1:1-5)

These verses aren’t the Nativity narrative we are used to at Christmas time, but they are some of the most poignant interpretations of what we mean when we say “Immanuel.” Let’s focus on the second half—the image of light.

Throughout Scripture, the presence of God is shown with light. Sometimes God wields His creation to display His glory; other times, the light is God’s very presence. With the Incarnation, God humbly wrapped the Light in a baby’s body, that He might show us the way. Yet before Jesus was born his relative, Zechariah, had more to tell.

In the first chapter of Luke, when the people were outside of the temple waiting for Zechariah to emerge, they were praying and anticipating a blessing. After lighting the incense on behalf of the people it was customary for the priest to bestow the ancient blessing passed down from Aaron:

The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace. (Number 6:24-26)

But Zechariah was never able to speak those words. All he could do was gesture and point. The people surmised that he had seen a vision. How many people left that day wondering what that vision might be? They didn’t seem curious enough to ask Zechariah to spell it out. But fast forward nine months. Those near him on the eighth day after John was born finally got to hear a blessing from the priest:

And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation to his people
    in the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
    to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
(Luke 1:76-79)

It says “fear came on all their neighbors. And all these things were talked about through all the hill country of Judea, and all who heard them laid them up in their hearts. . .” (Luke 1:65-66a)

Aaron’s blessing was a regular reminder that God was shining His face on His people. That His very presence (countenance) would give them peace. R.C. Sproul teaches on this idea in one of his sermons about the crucifixion. He says, “The Israelite understood blessedness concretely: to be blessed was to be able to behold the face of God.” It was a present truth. And it was a future promise.

On that day, Zechariah did not bless the people but instead showed them that God was turning His face towards them in the biggest way possible. Their prayers were being answered. A Light was coming to shine in the darkness.

As we look forward to the second Advent, the day when Christ returns, we are anticipating the fullest revelation of that Light. Sproul concludes, “someday [we will] experience the fullness of the benediction of Israel. We will look unveiled into the light of the countenance of God.” Until that day, we wait. Like the people outside the temple, we wait with expectation.

Promises and Preparing

Immanuel: God with us.

What made that moment in history perfect for God to come down in human form? Could the Incarnation have taken place earlier, during the exile in Babylon? Could it have been later?

In Galatians, Paul tells us, “But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.” (Galatians 4:4-5)

What does “fullness of time” mean? At my church we are going through an Advent sermon series named just that—“In the Fullness of Time.” It is a beautiful image, ripe for exploration. This morning, our pastor preached on Luke 1:5-23. However, it wasn’t a regular sermon. It was a message directed towards the children in our congregation. Just like any good children’s book can open the eyes and hearts of adult readers with a fresh perspective, the sermon gave new insight to a familiar story. With the children, we were asked to ponder, “What did God do in this story?”

5 In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah,[a] of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.

8 Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, 9 according to the custom of the priesthood, he was chosen by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense. 10 And the whole multitude of the people were praying outside at the hour of incense. 11 And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense. 12 And Zechariah was troubled when he saw him, and fear fell upon him. 13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. 14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great before the Lord. And he must not drink wine or strong drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb. 16 And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, 17 and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.”

18 And Zechariah said to the angel, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” 19 And the angel answered him, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. 20 And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time.” 21 And the people were waiting for Zechariah, and they were wondering at his delay in the temple. 22 And when he came out, he was unable to speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the temple. And he kept making signs to them and remained mute. 23 And when his time of service was ended, he went to his home.

In Luke 1:5-7, God hadn’t allowed Elizabeth to become pregnant.
In verses 8-11 At just the right time, God caused Zechariah to be appointed the priest who would enter the temple and burn incense. He also prompted the whole multitude of people to pray outside the temple.
In verses 12-17 God sent an angel to tell Zechariah His promise and we discover that He had heard Zechariah’s prayers, and Israel’s prayers for centuries.
In Luke 1:18-23 God made Zechariah mute.

What is God doing?
“God is unfolding things,” our pastor tells the children.

The last book of the Old Testament is Malachi. In Malachi 4, at the very end, God speaks through the prophet:
“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers, lest I come and strike the land with a decree of utter destruction.” Malachi 4:5-6

And then Israel experiences 400 years of silence from God. For context, that’s the same length of time between now and when the pilgrims arrived on the Mayflower. The last thing the people of God heard was a prophecy, a promise, a message of peace. But life didn’t look peace-ful for the Israelites. It seemed exactly the opposite.

Although God was silent, He was still working. He was unfolding a plan to make a way for a Peace deeper than anyone could have imagined.

This is where we meet Zechariah. And God begins to speak. Only Zechariah can’t believe the words the angel tells him. Not only does he wonder at the chance of having a baby at his old age, but Zechariah probably knows prophecy backwards and forwards, so when he says, “how shall I know this?” he is so very doubtful that the deepest desire and the deepest desire of his people was actually going to come true, and that his son would play a major part in it.

This is a story we’ve heard time and time again. But there is something hidden here that the early readers would have understood. My pastor put it like this: “When God is unfolding a plan, He always does two things: 1. He always keeps His promises, and 2. He always prepares His people.

Since God has been unfolding the plan of “Immanuel” since the very minute sin entered the world in the Garden of Eden, that means the Old Testament is full of two very big things: promises and preparing.

The very last thing Israel heard God speak was, “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes. And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers…” (Malachi 4:5-6a).

400 years later, to a “random” priest fulfilling his once-in-a lifetime selected duty, God repeats His promise and says, “And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.” (Luke 1:16-17)

How amazing is that? If anyone was uncertain, this was surely a sign.

Only, Zechariah was uncertain, enough to verbally doubt the angel of the Lord.

But God was not done preparing His people, nor was he finished preparing Zechariah. So he stilled Zechariah. He muted his speech, slowed him down. For nine months, all he could do was ponder. Zechariah knew the prophecies. He knew the promise. He had been waiting for it his whole life.

The sermon this morning concluded with this truth: “God wants us to wait with Him while we wait for Him.”

We can look upon this story as God working through a series of impossible situations (Elizabeth’s age and barrenness, for example) or we can see that everything was exactly where it needed to be for the “fullness of time.”

Alongside Zechariah and Elizabeth, alongside each of us, Immanuel waits with us. He sees us and knows us as we wait.

Welcome to Advent 2021

Dear friends (and those who may have stumbled upon this blog),

If you've joined me for any of the past eleven years, then you are probably familiar with Advent. If you are a new reader, this will serve as an introduction:

In latin the word "adventus" means "coming." Within the context of western Christianity, Advent is the season of four weeks leading up to Christmas—the celebration of Christ's birth. It is a time of joyful expectation and preparation. The four weeks are marked by the four Sundays, on which the candles of the Advent wreath are lit.

The first candle is traditionally the candle of Hope, followed by Peace, Love, and Joy. However, with so many church traditions comes a variety of names for each candle. Usually they are organized around characters or themes as a way to unfold the story and direct attention to the celebrations and worship in the season. So, the sequence might be Prophets, Bethlehem, Shepherds, Angels; Expectation, Annunciation, Proclamation, Fulfillment; or Prophets, John the Baptist, Mary, the Magi.

Last year I chose to reflect on the themes of Longing, Preparation, Proclamation, and Joy. This year, I am trying something a little different and focusing on one all-encompassing word: Immanuel. I will explore the theme of “God with us” as it was perceived by the prophets and those who lived during the Old Testament, announced to the key players of the Nativity story, demonstrated by the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, and remains a firm truth for us today.

For four short weeks every year, we stop and see—with amazing clarity—God’s miraculous hand shaping the trajectory of human history. I have a hard time seeing this kind of perspective in daily life. Even with God’s sustaining grace, I am so often numb to the repercussions of Christ’s advent in my own life. This blog is an attempt to peel back the layers of those truths and meditate on the everlasting love God showed humanity when he sent forth His son. And as we do that together, may our hearts be directed towards the greater Advent still to come.

Let us enter this season with expectation, ever blessed by those who have paved the way. I’m glad you have chosen to join me on the journey!

Merry Christmas!

 

"The Truth Sent from Above"

I am going to end Advent with a quote I read, by author Sarah Clarkson, at the very beginning of Advent, when I was seeking places to glean inspiration and shareable truths. This quote is kind of long, part of an essay, really, and its purpose is an introduction to the season. But, as we draw this season of Advent to a close, I think its use as a reminder is just as important.

To set the stage, listen to this English Carol, The Truth Sent from Above. The author is unknown, but this arrangement is by Ralph Vaughn Williams. Note in particular the third verse they sing:

I was listening. And when they came to that verse –

Thus we were heirs to endless woes,
Till God the Lord did interpose
For so a promise soon did run
That he would redeem us with a Son.

Oh. In an instant my heart stirred into yearning. We, oh Lord, me, here in the shadowlands bearing the endless woes and toil of our good, hard, fallen, grieved days. Me, striving, working, yearning, forgetting, losing my patience in the meantime… we here with all those small woes (and great ones too), we are the ones to whom this truth from above is sent: that He’d redeem us with a Son. I felt the yearning to be more than I am, to love more deeply, to know more fully, to return to worship rise up in me as my great sorrow and my real, returning health.

And this, I think, is a small image of what Advent does for all of us. From the clamour and work and grief and distraction of life in a fallen, modern, belligerent world, we are drawn aside into the chapel of Advent devotion. We are invited into a space where we can step away from the pained, frantic life that has become untethered from Love and come face to face with quiet. We’re invited into a moment of hush where we can learn to hear the music of God’s presence again. We often don’t know we even need it until we sojourn there a bit and find ourselves unravelled, and so achingly happy to be so.
 

Thank you for joining me again on this Advent journey.
Blessings to you, as the old year passes into the new.

"Forever's Start"

On this Christmas Eve Eve, I want to share one final Madeleine L’Engle Advent poem. It’s never made its way onto my blog. I’m not sure why. It’s glorious, and full of the type of mystery that so grabs at my heart during this season. The poem was first published, without a title, in L’Engle’s The Irrational Season. This version, I copied from Miracle on 10th Street. It includes this prelude:

Forever’s Start

The days are growing noticeably shorter; the nights are longer, deeper, colder. Today the sun did not rise as high in the sky as it did yesterday. Tomorrow it will be still lower. At winter solstice the sun will go below the horizon, below the dark. The sun does dies. And then, to our amazement, the Son will rise again.

Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come
In Your fearful innocence.
We fumble in the far-spent night
Far from lovers, friends, and home:
Come in Your naked, newborn might.
Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come;
My heart withers in Your absence.

Come, Lord Jesus, small, enfleshed
Like any human, helpless child.
Come once, come once again, come soon:
The stars in heaven fall, unmeshed;
The sun is dark, blood’s on the moon.
Come, Word who came to us enfleshed,
Come speak in joy untamed and wild.

Come, Thou wholly other, come,
Spoken before words began,
Come and judge Your uttered world
Where You made our flesh your home.
Come, with bolts of lightning hurled,
Come, Thou wholly other, come,
Who came to man by being man.

Come, Lord Jesus, at the end,
Time’s end, my end, forever’s start.
Come in Your flaming, burning power.
Time, like the temple veil, now rend;
Come, shatter every human hour.
Come, Lord Jesus, at the end.
Break, then mend the waiting heart.

Be Not Afraid

There were many times Mary and Joseph could have turned around and given up. Not because the journey was so hard, or the task of birthing the Messiah was too lofty, but because so many times along the way they were met with events that required much courage.

• Mary tells Joseph about the special baby growing inside her womb. Should he go back on his betrothal?
  
  
• Caesar announces a census in everyone’s hometown. Should they travel to Bethlehem, with Mary so pregnant?
  
  
• They arrive in Bethlehem tired and dusty. It might be Joseph’s hometown, but they have nowhere to stay, no friends to help the delivery. How can they go on?
  

But then, the baby is born. And the angels cry out,

Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
(Luke 2:10-11)

Amid the unpleasantness of a strange room, a manger for a bed, and swaddling clothes for newborn garments, a band of shepherds come to worship the newborn King, and all seems to be at peace.

This image is stamped across greeting cards and Christmas carols more than any other. But real-life uncertainties continued for the holy family. In fact, they were just kicking into high gear.

The Wise Men unknowingly informed King Herod about young Jesus when they asked,

“Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him; and assembling all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Christ was to be born. (Matthew 2:2-4)

Instantly, Jesus became a rival, and Herod retaliated by issuing a death sentence for all young boys under two.

Another time where Mary and Joseph could have been paralyzed with fear. But an angel appears to Joseph in a dream and says, “Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” (Matthew 2:13)

The road to Egypt was long and dangerous. The land, filled with foreign gods and unknown ways. Fear.

Jesus’ whole earthy life was met with contention and antagonism. Opportunities for fear. But Jesus’ time in human form is book-ended with the angels declaring: “Fear Not! Do not be afraid.” I think there’s a message in there for us.

A couple years ago I wrote about A Charlie Brown Christmas, specifically the scene where Linus is reciting from Luke 2. As he gets to the part about the angels, a strange thing happens. You have to really be watching to notice. Linus drops his blanket. The item he kept close for security and possibly even courage—he lets it go.

“Fear not!” said the angels. “Do not be afraid.”

I am really good at living in anxiety and fear. In fact, it’s the part of my character emphasized in the Enneagram.

If Jesus wasn’t God, I imagine he could have met his roadblocks with a similar mind. But instead, Jesus passed through His earthly reign as the Prince of Peace, heralded at the beginning and the end with the words, “be not afraid.”

Sometimes we need narratives like the accounts in Luke and Matthew to show us the truths we’ve been seeking all along. Authors like C.S. Lewis, Madeleine L’Engle, and J.R.R. Tolkien knew this. God, the author of life, knows this. We need to hear the angels say to the shepherds, “do not be afraid.” To hear Aslan whisper to Lucy, “courage, dear heart.” Or watch Vicky’s fear wash away as she swims with the dolphins in Grandfather’s cove. And observe Gandalf declare to Theoden, “Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark; for better help you will not find. No counsel have I to give to those that despair.”

Fear is a common part of human existence. Jesus knows this because he humbled Himself and become a man. He empathizes with us, helps us, comforts us, loves us. But fear is not the end of the story. The final chapter is yet to come, and it is then that darkness will meet its end.