Advent Companions of Hope: Sitting with Darkness

Today is the first day of Advent. On each of the four weeks of Advent, a new candle in the circle, or wreath, is lit. On the final week, all four candles shine bright until, on Christmas Eve, the Christ candle in the center of the wreath completes the fiery glow.

If, like me, you did not grow up celebrating Advent, you may or may not know that each candle symbolizes a different theme or word related to this season of looking for the “arrival”…for the “coming”. Advent literally means “arrival” or “coming”.

On the first Sunday of Advent…on the first Sunday of looking for the “arrival”…for the “coming”…on the the first Sunday of Advent the theme is HOPE.

Some of you closed your browser right when you read that word: HOPE.

You thought…great…another sugary Christian post about having hope this season.

Blech.

There may be nothing more depressing. Or, dishonest.

If you are still here, I hope you will hang with me just for a minute, because I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere dishonest in the next few moments we have together. I know that a lot of you have been waiting for a very, very, very long time. Looking for an “arrival”. Anticipating a “coming”.

Hoping.

And, you are tired.

Tired of living in liminal, “thin”, hard, holy spaces.

Tired. Tired. Tired.

I want to be very, very honest about that.

In those places of exhaustion there is nothing more depressing…nothing more hope-LESS…than someone trying to convince you otherwise.

I have a love-hate relationship with the positivity movement. I appreciate their research and I use some of their interventions in my work as a therapist…carefully. I use their ideas carefully because I know that NOTHING kills a vibe in a therapy relationship more than a misplaced positive “reframe”.

That does not mean that there isn’t a place for helping people to see “the bright side”, but nothing may feel more hope-LESS than someone trying to FORCE you to be hope-FULL without first sitting WITH you.

First the sitting. Then the looking.

My work as a therapist has taught me a great irony. There is something incredibly powerful towards instilling hope…helping someone to feel more hope-FULL… by simply and honestly acknowledging what truly feels hope-LESS.

I can almost feel it in the room…a shift…a change in the energy. I feel a surprising LIGHTENING….when I admit with a client, a friend, a student: “This right here. This is HARD. Really, really hard.”

I can almost feel a change in both of us when we get really, really honest.

“This SUCKS. Really, really sucks. And, it is probably going to suck for a while longer.”

Then we sit there…and out of seeing the darkness together we start to feel the light.

It is coming. It is. The arrival will happen.

But, first. It is hard. Really, really hard. And, dark. And, exhausting.

Maybe we have to have a season when we don’t actually even believe the “coming” or “arrival” will happen at all.

That’s when we need an advent companion more than ever.

First the sitting. Then the looking.

Henri Nouwen, Catholic priest, writer, and pastoral counselor, said:

“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

There may be nothing so hope-FULL as someone who can WAIT with us…an Advent companion…someone who can look for the “arrival”, HOPE for its “coming”… without trying to CONTROL when, how, and what that arrival and coming looks like.

There is something so incredibly holy in sitting WITH pain without veering towards pity or inappropriate positivity…respecting the pain AND the person experiencing the pain.

The respect piece is so, so, so important. Without it, companioning quickly turns to pity at best, control at worst.

I want to tell you THIS truth on this first Sunday in Advent.

It is ok.

It is ok to be tired.

It is ok to be tired of waiting. Tired of looking. Tired of anticipating. Tired of sitting in hard, holy spaces. Tired of tolerating the discomfort of liminality.

Tired of the damn “almost, but not yet” tension.

It is ok to be tired from labor. From the disorientation of walking in “thin” spaces for too long…those painful places where the boundary between heaven and earth is barely detectable. Tired of those segments of the journey where the ground is holy and it seems, like Moses, you took your shoes off, but they’ve been off for a very, very long time.

Like your broken, bare feet, you feel vulnerable, exposed.

It is ok to be exhausted and raw from overexposure and vulnerability.

If this is you…and I know for an honest-to-God FACT that there ARE a whole heck of a lot of you out there…if this is you…friend, I am sorry. So, so sorry. I feel that darkness with you deeply. I am here sitting with you. Companioning with you through this Advent season.

This right here. This is HARD. Really, really hard.

Let’s be really, really honest about that, ok?

This SUCKS. Really, really sucks. And, it is probably going to suck for a while longer.

It is, friend. I wish I could say it wasn’t going to last a bit longer, but it probably is.

Now is when we sit…and, out of seeing the darkness together, may we start to feel the light.

It is coming. It is. The arrival will happen.

But, first. It is hard. Really, really hard. And, dark. And, exhausting.

And, maybe we have to have a season where we don’t actually even believe the “coming” or “arrival” will happen at all.

I’m not afraid of your disbelief, friend. Not afraid or overwhelmed by it one bit.

(Also. May I make a suggestion? Anyone who is afraid of or overwhelmed by your pain, disbelief and darkness? Those aren’t your people right now. And, that’s ok. They might be your people again later. Maybe. Maybe not. But, not right now.)

Let’s just sit here. Together. In the darkness. Let’s acknowledge the hope-LESS-ness. Let’s be real. And, honest. And, raw. And, vulnerable. And, TIRED.

I don’t have a timetable for you on this part (and I would steer away from anyone who DOES seem to have a timetable they want to impose ON you…that’s your call).

All I know is that when we are READY…and not a moment sooner…out of seeing and sitting with the darkness together, may we start to feel the light.

We probably won’t even see it at first. We will just start to SENSE it. Feel it. A shift. A change in the energy. A surprising LIGHTENING.

It is coming. It is. The arrival will happen.

But, first the hard. The very, very, very hard.

First the sitting. Then the looking.

If this isn’t you…and I know for an honest-to-God FACT that most of you HAVE been here or will be one day…if it isn’t you right NOW…someone out there needs someone to sit with them in the darkness. I hope you have the honor of being an Advent companion. A person who isn’t afraid or overwhelmed by the darkness…a person who can sit without pity or an attempt to control…respecting the pain AND the person experiencing the pain. There may be nothing so holy.