When I was in junior
high school, our youth group at Calvary United Methodist Church in Easton, Pennsylvania went on a spelunking trip. Spelunking is better known as caving. We were told
to wear old clothing that we were willing to throw away. The reason for this
became clear when we eventually emerged from the cold, wet cave. We
were covered from head to toe with mud, looking something like this guy:
 |
| A Spelunking Guy |
For a seventh grade boy, this is high adventure, but I don't think my dad fully shared my enthusiasm for spelunking. He did, though, glean a sermon illustration from the ordeal. Here’s what he said the next Sunday:
“I’m
not sure why our Junior High Youth Fellowship advisor, Chuck Fuller is so
gung-ho over exploring caves, but a week ago as our group slowly threaded its
way up from the depths of a cave toward the mouth, I thought perhaps it was
meaningful for him, and could be for all of us, if we looked upon it as a
parable for life. And the more I thought about it, the significance of this
whole experience was even more heightened by the fact that we were groping our
way out of this cave on a day in the middle of the Advent season.
As
we left the inner reaches of the cave and began to climb out, it became
apparent that the batteries in my flashlight were beginning to grow weak. Since
we had to proceed in single file order, when the person in front of me would
get pretty far ahead, or turn the corner and I no longer had the benefit of his
light, it grew quite dark, as the beam of my own light was fading fast. Without
the proper light, there were more bumps and scrapes on the jutting rocks of the
cave’s walls; more caution was needed, more feeling ahead with my hands. But
then, just as my flashlight was dimming to a mere glow, something happened. I
felt it before I saw it. The cooler air of the outside world; we were coming
near the entrance to the cave. And then finally confirming my speculation, the
first beams of sunlight were visible. In no time at all we crawled out into the
full light of day, squinting in the bright sunshine, for we had become accustomed
to the darkness. It made me think again
of that great verse from Isaiah 9: ‘The people who walked in darkness have seen
a great light; those who dwelt in the land of deep darkness, on them has light
shined.’
This
whole caving experience is our Advent parable. Apart from God, in our fallen
humanity, as individuals and as nations, we are groping and fumbling our way
through the darkness, falling, hurting ourselves, bumping into one another.
Sometimes helping each other a little, but mostly pushing each other away and
looking out for ourselves. Like my flashlight, what light, what goodness we
have on our own is weak and flickering at best. It cannot be counted on to save
us from the darkness that is closing in all around us. Such is the helplessness
and frustration and fear we feel as we thread our way through the worries and
tragedies and tensions of life. Our strength sometimes wanes, and we wonder if
we’ll make it.
But
the meaning of Advent is this: Just as the rays of our own light are about to
go out and we fear that we will be consumed by the darkness, just then a light
shines on us from outside ourselves, a light far more brilliant than anything
we could manufacture. This light, this salvation for our darkened lives, is
from God. The Sun of Righteousness is the Righteous Son of God, whom God has
sent to light the way for us unto all eternity. With him the energy to fuel the
light is inexhaustible. We need never fear the darkness again.
Advent
is the invitation to crawl out of the darkness and stand up in the light. Your
eyes must get adjusted to the new brightness. There is growing to do. Sometimes
the light itself will seem to be a little scary, and you may be tempted to
retreat into the familiar darkness of the cave. But once you grow used to the
light and take more and more of it in, the more certain you become that this is
where you belong.”
So here is my prayer for you as we approach the fourth Sunday of Advent: May Jesus light up your
life and your world this Christmas and always. Amen.
From: “A Child Is Born”
Scripture:
Isaiah 9:2-7
Preached
at Calvary United Methodist Church,
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