Advent Candles by Claire Barham
We gather around the table with full bellies from our warm December dinner and turn off the lights so that darkness falls around us.
A tiny flicker illuminates the air around a pink candle, and I see the faces of my family in dim orange light.
Advent candles don’t transform us into anything different. When I lived at home with my parents and siblings, we still fussed at each other during the scripture reading and my little brother had trouble paying attention.
The glow of the candles didn’t make us holier. There’s a deep stillness that comes from the stark contrast of darkness and light, but some days, that peace feels out of reach.
And yet, my family would sing hymns together around the kitchen table, something we really only do at Christmastime. Haunting melodies like “O Come O Come Emmanuel” would float around the room in such an ordinary way. It feels a little awkward to sing a cappella hymns nearly out of the blue…but worship would push its way into our hearts anyway, and for a moment we could grasp the beauty of what we’re doing.
The Christmas season is full of sparkle and light and sweet things…and it can absolutely fly by.
Observing Advent has created a shift for me over the last few years.
Rather than focusing on Christmas as a time to buy and go and speed ahead, Advent creates space for reflection, to sit in the darkness, to not force the entire month of December to feel full of energy at every moment.
So Advent candles after dinnertime feel particularly appropriate. Evenings in the winter are generally mundane, with the cold and the early darkness. Sleepiness begins to set in, and it’s tempting to slip away from fellowship at the table, to curl up on the couch with my phone, and scroll until I’m sleepy-eyed and groggy. But instead, I get to light a candle and usher in time with God, in the most ordinary space and time.
Rather than looking inward, this liturgy helps me to see those I love more clearly. My friends and family member’s faces are lit up, first by the smallest flame, which is then joined by more flames over the weeks, until it’s Christmas Eve and light has flooded the living room, and then the next morning it’s all light and gifts, and grace overflowing.
The haunting of the Advent hymns and the flicker of candles is a reminder of our own need; that we can only bring so much light into this world on our own.
But we press on and we press in, lighting more candles as the month goes on, showing up with resilience when the holidays are hard and we’re tired and worn.
We show up with a match to light the flame because we know that once it’s lit, the brightness can’t help but spread.
Claire lives in middle Georgia with her husband Patten. She holds a BA in English and Writing from Covenant College, and is passionate about nonfiction writing and marketing. She splits her time writing about drawing near to God's heart, and helping others develop their unique narrative voice.