The Dawn of Light. Isaiah 9:2-7. 12/01/24.

The Dawn of Light

Isaiah 9:2-7

Rev. Dr. Rhonda Blevins

December 1, 2024

The people who walked in darkness
    have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
    on them light has shined.
You have multiplied exultation;
    you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
    as with joy at the harvest,
    as people exult when dividing plunder.
For the yoke of their burden
    and the bar across their shoulders,
    the rod of their oppressor,
    you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
    and all the garments rolled in blood
    shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
For a child has been born for us,
    a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders,
    and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Great will be his authority,
    and there shall be endless peace
for the throne of David and his kingdom.
    He will establish and uphold it
with justice and with righteousness
    from this time onward and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

______

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.”
—Isaiah 9:2 (KJV)

This is one of the most beautiful passages in all of scripture, Isaiah 9:2. The imagery is one of contrasts: darkness and shadows juxtaposed against the light of Christ.

Think about a time when you’ve been outside in the dark . . . the darkest place you’ve ever been. Not Clearwater Beach dark, but country dark. You know what I mean. No lights from the city or a neighbor’s window, no moon lighting up the evening sky. So dark you can’t even see your hand in front of your face. In that kind of darkness, a single light makes all the difference. As if a solitary firefly could be seen a mile away. A flashlight? Miraculous!

The passage we read a moment ago, Isaiah 9:2-7, was written during a time of deep, penetrating, national darkness. The people of Judah recognized that Assyria would likely attack and defeat them, and they were distraught and terrified. Into their desperation, the prophet Isaiah offers vision of hope, promising deliverance from oppression through the birth of a righteous ruler who would manifest God’s justice and God’s peace. Isaiah paints a contrast for the people of Judah and for us: into our darkness, no matter how dark, how bleak, how lost we find ourselves . . . the people that walked in darkness (like you and me), they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death (like you and me), upon them (upon us) hath the light shined.

I want to tell you about the darkest place I’ve ever been. On my family land up in East Tennessee, there’s a cave. Very few people know it’s there. You have to walk through lots of poison ivy to the bottom of a sink hole, and you find a craggy place with just enough room for a grown man to shimmy down a rope about 20 feet or so. Once you make it down that pass, the cave opens up a bit, like a small room. You can stand up with plenty of headroom. If you walk to the other side, and if you’re brave enough to slide on your belly, you can army crawl through a pass (my family calls it “fat man squeeze”), maybe another 20 feet or so to a small opening that leads down to an underground stream. I once saw an albino crawdad in that stream. You know why it was albino, right? No light. That far into the cave, not a speck of light. When you cut your flashlight off (believe me, you don’t want your battery to die!), there’s nowhere in the universe that could be any darker. I’ve never taken anyone down into that cave that could leave the flashlights off for more than about a minute. It’s dark. It’s a little scary. I’m always quite ready for the light to shine once again.

And that’s how life feels from time to time. Dark. Scary. Sometimes it feels as if we have no flashlight, and we’re just stuck. Can’t see our hands in front of our face dark. Lost, alone, scared.

Into that fear and darkness, the prophet proclaims: “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.”

On this, the first Sunday in the season of Advent, we begin to turn our attention to Christmas and the birth of Jesus. In its deepest meaning, Christmas isn’t about trees and tinsel, shopping or Santa. It’s about light. Light shining in the darkness.

In the history of our faith, Christmas has often been celebrated as the “Feast of the Incarnation”—the time when the Divine Light entered into our dark and broken world through the birth of Christ. But why, of all times in the year, do we celebrate this holy day in December? The answer is both theological and historical, and it points to a profound truth: light shines brightest in the darkest times.

In ancient cultures, the winter solstice—around December 21—marked the shortest day and the longest night of the year. For millennia, people living in the northern hemisphere recognized this as a turning point in the calendar. Though the solstice was the year's darkest day, it also held a promise: the sun would begin to return, and the days would grow longer. Many ancient societies celebrated the solstice with festivals of light, warmth, and feasting, acknowledging the hope of renewal in the midst of cold and darkness.

When the early church sought to establish a date to commemorate the birth of Christ, December 25 was chosen, in part, to align with these solstice celebrations. Roman culture, for example, observed a festival called Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, "The Birthday of the Unconquered Sun," on December 25. Christians, with holy boldness, reimagined this celebration, proclaiming instead that Jesus is the true "Sun of Righteousness" (Malachi 4:2), the unconquered light breaking into the world.

This merging of traditions was more than a practical choice; it was deeply symbolic. Just as the winter solstice represents the hope of brighter days ahead, the birth of Christ is the ultimate declaration that light has come into the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it (John 1:5). In the bleak midwinter of our lives—whether that is literal, emotional, or spiritual—God's light breaks through, bringing hope, warmth, and life.

This imagery—light—is my favorite image for understanding the nature of God these days. Light is power. Light is energy.

“There has been light from the beginning. There will be light, feebly, at the end. In all its forms—visible and invisible—it saturates the universe. Light is more than a little bit inscrutable. Modern physics has sliced the stuff of nature into ever smaller and more exotic constituents, but light won’t reduce. Light is light—pure, but not simple. No one is exactly sure how to describe it. A wave? A particle? Yes, the scientists say.”[1] 

Several years ago, something happened to kindle my appreciation for the power of light. I was relaxing at home after my boys were in bed, watching TV. My husband was in another room on the computer, when Boom! Lightning struck our house or at least somewhere very close. In a single instant destroyed our flat screen tv, our computer, our garage door opener. It even knocked our doorbell 15 feet off the house.

All because of light, whatever it is.

The light that came into the world has that same kind of energy, but instead of power used for destruction, this power is the power that can illumine even the deepest, coldest places in our hearts. Who could have imagined that that kind of power would take the form of a little baby? One who seems so weak, so frail, so dependent for everything, holds the power to transform the world.

So much in life can leave us feeling powerless. Illness, despair, and certainly death. Christmas joy can be elusive for those experiencing some of life’s challenges. But Christmas is exactly what those same people need. Because each Christmas, the light of the world enters our hearts anew. Hope is born once more. Nothing is more powerful than the light of Christ in our lives. Nothing.

Today we begin our Advent journey and our focus, rightly, is on the incarnation of Christ—remembering Jesus as a baby—a baby who would one day hold the government upon his shoulder. And that baby we now call Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.

During the darkest time of the year, as we prepare for the birth of Christ once again, we are reminded of the promise that God meets us in our darkest places. It is precisely when we feel the coldness of despair or the heaviness of night that the light of Christ shines most brightly.

And what do we do when the light comes? We celebrate! We gather, we sing, we feast, and we light candles to proclaim that even in our deepest struggles, hope has the final word.

O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by Thine advent here;

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel!

[1] Written by Joel Achenbach, “Power of Light” National Geographic, http://science.nationalgeographic.com/science/space/universe/power-of-light/