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With each passing day, it seems we are collectively seeing vast uncertainty and chaos. Perhaps you notice yourself feeling overwhelmed by anxiety, carrying a weight you can’t fully describe. Perhaps you notice yourself wondering what is next. Personally, I notice myself wrestling with my own lack of control in a society that tells us to take the reins and make something of ourselves. I am noticing rushes of lament and sorrow arise within me along with joy and gratitude for the beautiful people and things in my life. I notice anger and exhaustion grasping at my body and soul.

I notice the collective uneasiness we are experiencing in the waiting - in the dark. 

These days, there are not many places for us to be with the grief of loss, the rhythms of change, and the reality that life has not gone as planned. We are taught to “deal with” the hard, heavy, yet natural moments of this human life on our own. Without realizing it, we’ve bought the lie that we must isolate ourselves when we feel sad and lonely… that we can find comfort and safety in our phones. We’ve told ourselves we must not tell anyone when we are suffering or experiencing health issues or are lonely. We choose to hide so that our shame, anger, and fear are not witnessed by others. After all, we are supposed to carry it all alone, right? 

On Sunday, December 21st, the northern hemisphere will experience the winter solstice, bringing with it the shortest day and the longest night of the year. Historically, it has been a time of reflection as it is a turning point from darkness to light. 

This year, I’m seeing it is also about the reminder that we are being held and loved by a God that is more expansive than we can imagine. A God whose love for us goes deeper than any human love we could possibly experience. A God who weeps with us and journeys alongside us in our moments of uncertainty, grief, shame, and despair. A God who began in darkness and created both the day and the night. And then, through the love of Jesus, we are not only encouraged to remember God’s holding. We are also invited to remember the holding that happens in a community when we choose to be present with one another as we experience both the joys and the difficulties of life. Sometimes this looks like a conversation or taking care of one another. Sometimes this looks like simply sitting in the same room with one another without the need to speak or do or fix or change.

What if we truly allowed ourselves to trust that this year? 

My invitation for you is to join us for a special worship on Sunday, December 21st at 6pm as we mark the longest night of the year. In past years, we’ve called this ‘Blue Christmas’ as it is often around the holidays when we are shoved into the reminder that we are missing loved ones or we feel alone and rushed. Let this worship be what you need it to be. 

  • perhaps a moment of silence and stillness
  • perhaps a moment to breathe before the rush of change (even if the anticipation is with joy!)
  • perhaps an allowing of lament and sorrow and grief 
  • perhaps a trusting reminder that our Beloved God is accompanying us, holding us and weeping alongside us
  • perhaps it’s simply a place to be with your own grief while others are with choosing to be with theirs

We’ll provide tea, music, readings of scripture and poetry, moments of silence and prayer, and even an invitation to turn whatever you carry into a collective art project. Bring with you anything that would allow you to feel more comfortable. 

So come. Be with the parts of you that experience fear, heaviness, sadness, and grief during this season of allowing the dark and the light - trusting in God’s everlasting presence and holding through it all.

Sunday, December 21 at 6pm in the sanctuary. 

See you there.