I love Advent... I love in some mysterious way the physical darkness of a northern hemisphere December that encapsulates some of what ths season is about.  So I'm really glad that Sunday is Advent Sunday and that, once again, we begin our journey towards Christmas holding that strange tension of incarnation and consummation, reflection and anticipation, faith and doubt, hope and fear.

This year, we are using some material from Christian Aid focussed on maternal health as one strand in our thoughts, and will be using the candle liturgy they offer.  Each week one or more families will lead this part of the service, and I hope it proves meaningful for us all.  In our lunch time series (starting a few days early, tomorrow!) will are going to use some African American spirituals to guide our thoughts - hope in the darkness of slavery and oppression.  Added to that are some traditional themes of "Patriarchs and Matriarchs" and "Prophets and Prophetesses" before the Sunday School nativity and all age carol service.

Somewhere along the line, Advent has been subsumed by Tinselmas, the commerical version of Christmas that is filled with 'spend, spend, spend' adverts, parties, canned carols, cheesy songs and, this year, yet another release of "Do They Know it's Christmas?"  A nice irony I think given how far most western lives are from having a clue about Christmas and it's significance.

One of my favourite parts of Advent is the opportunity to sing Advent hymns, minor keys that ache with pathos, longing, hope-against-hope and words that are often a little too close to the truth for comfort.

This year, I have many friends for whom Advent is extra dark - relationship breakdown, bereavement, illness, uncertainty and more - some of them even wondering if there is still a light at the end of the tunnel, if the idea of hope is a delusion.  Too easy to rush ahead to the prologue of John and announce that light triumphs over darkness, for now what these folk need is the promise of the alongsideness of the shepherd in the 'valley of the shadow of death", friends who cannot make it right, but who carry the "Christlight" for them "in the night-time of their fear".

Lots of my my most precious songs speak of light in the darkness... promises that when it seems all is lost and God is silent that, mysteriously and wonderfully God draws close in friends, family, professionals and even strangers.

For those wont to read between the lines, I am in a 'good place' at the moment... well apart from my poorly kitten of course.  Perhaps it is those of us in the 'good places' who need to be willing to step into the darkness alongside others in order to be their hope this Advent-tide.