Annie is pit-boxer-something-or-another mix, and we have a date every evening that includes a walk in our neighborhood. As we often do on these evening strolls, we nosed into the woods along the edge of the neighborhood. I unclipped her leash so she could have more space to investigate and smell, after all, a dog thinks with their nose. We do this every night, but this night, in the dark, she slipped away from my sight and apparently my voice, as I was calling out for her. Let me get to the end of the story – Annie returned home ten minutes later, looking at me and wondering what was my problem! The next day I purchased a collar with LED lighting, so now on our walks she is clearly visible even in, especially in, the darkest night.

We speak so much about light in Advent, but Advent has a dark side too. Some say that darkness is simply the absence of light, but that implies darkness has no agency outside of light. Maybe there is truth in that, but make no mistake about it – darkness has a very real value.

We know that through the joyful singing of Hark the Herald Angels Sing and Go Tell it on the Mountain, that darkness dwells in doubts, in anxieties, through injustices, by failure, with fear. While statistics remind us Christmas and Easter are when many seek out a church, I know that many others struggle to enter church this time of year, or any time of year. Sometimes the darkness is just too much.

Novelist Zora Neale Hurston tells the story of a hurricane that was ravishing farmland along the Everglades as helpless tenants waited out the storm huddled in their shanties. As the winds settle into destruction, she writes, “They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.” (Their Eyes Were Watching God, p. 160)

And that is Advent. We are watching for God in the darkness. The Gospel of Luke tells the story of a people under siege by Roman occupiers and their puppet kings – In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus…when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee…(Luke 2:1, 3:1). Surrounding storms and storms on the horizon were brewing and times were dark. In a very real way, the treasured people of God seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.

We light our candles and whisper our prayers, please take care of mama…watch over my children…deliver me from this depression…give me something, someone to hope for…take care of this cancer.”

We are watching God. And Advent is also a season to remember that God is watching us. Not in a “lordly” kind of way, high and lifted up, beyond reach and comprehension. That would just leave us with a hurricane on the horizon, an impulsive deity taking life or sparing it according to capricious whims.

No, God is watching us, and God is watching with us. Watching us and watching with us as John the baptizer calls on us all to change our direction and move towards those whom justice has been denied. Watching us and watching with us as Isaiah promised that all flesh shall see the salvation of God – even the ones who do not look like us, act like us, believe like us. Watching us and watching with us as Mary speaks of great reversals of the lofty being brought low and the lowly being lifted up. God is watching us and watching with us hoping that we can see what God sees.

We seem to be staring at the dark, but huddled together in our own shanties called congregations, Advent is shining a light watching God, and perhaps discovering God watching us, as well as God watching with us. As we watch, may we also find strength to go, do, and love in the name of Emmanuel, God with us, even in the deepest darkness.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:5 NRSV)