Be with us in our darkness

Journey of the Three Magi to Bethlehem, Leonaert Bramer, via Wikimedia Commons
 
 
We wait in the darkness,
expectantly, longingly, anxiously, thoughtfully.
 
The darkness is our friend.
 
In the darkness of the womb,
we have all been nurtured and protected.
 
In the darkness of the womb
the Christ-child was made ready for the journey into light.
 
It is only in the darkness
that we can see the splendour of the universe –
blankets of stars, the solitary glowings of the planets.
 
It was the darkness that allowed the Magi to find the star
that guided them to where the Christ-child lay.
 
In the darkness of the night,
desert people find relief from the cruel relentless heat of the sun.
 
In the blessed desert darkness
Mary and Joseph were able to flee with the infant Jesus
to safety in Egypt.
 
In the darkness of sleep,
we are soothed and restored, healed and renewed.
 
In the darkness of sleep, dreams rise up.
God spoke to Joseph and the wise men through dreams.
God is speaking still.
 
Sometimes in the solitude of the darkness
our fears and concerns, our hopes and visions
rise to the surface.
We come face to face with ourselves
and with the road that lies ahead of us.
And in that same darkness
we find companionship for the journey.
 
In that same darkness
we sometimes allow ourselves to wonder and worry
whether the human race is going to survive.
 
And then, in the darkness
we know that you are with us, O God,
yet still we await your coming.
 
In the darkness that contains both our hopelessness and our hope,
we watch for a sign of God’s hope.
 
For you are with us, O God,
in darkness and in light.
 
James Hawes, Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa, New Zealand 
_____________________
 
 
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
    and the light about me be night,”
 even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is bright as the day,
    for darkness is as light with you.
 
_____________________
 
Where is the darkest place that you have seen God move?
What did God do?

Incarnate yourself into our hopelessness

image / The Flight to Egypt / James Tissot
 
 
God of the homeless, the refugee, the displaced:
    we come expectant and hopeful before you.
In the world around us today
    we find ourselves surrounded by those, like Christ,
    without a place to simply be.
A season of blessing, our season of rain,
    is a curse for those without shelter.
 
You know what it is like to be displaced from your home,
    your family expelled from Israel out of fear of Herod.
In the same way, people flee their homes in fear of earthy leaders,
    uncertain of what the future may hold.
Those whose lands have been taken from them
    despair at the loss of valuable assets and resources.
 
Lord of hope, we are assured of your provision in this season
    where we expect the Bread of Life.
We are assured that you come to be with those who lack,
    those on the periphery, 
    as we remember you being born in a manger.
 
We are assured that your hand is outstretched to all,
    first to the poor and then to the rich,
    as shepherds and then magi came to the place of your birth.
Incarnate in hopeless situations for us, your people, we pray.
Amen.
 
complied by Claudio Carvalhaes, professor of worship in New York City
 
________________________
 

After the wise men were gone, 
    an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream. 
“Get up! Flee to Egypt with the child and his mother,” the angel said. 
“Stay there until I tell you to return, 
    because Herod is going to search for the child to kill him.”

That night Joseph left for Egypt with the child and Mary, his mother, 
    and they stayed there until Herod’s death. 
This fulfilled what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: 
    “I called my Son out of Egypt.”

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