Advent as Shekinah Glory

(This story was edited on the third anniversary of my mom’s passing)

During the pandemic, a typical morning for me was a “breakfast video chat” with my granddaughter Violet, who was almost four at the time (She’s almost seven now). We would usually catch up on events from the day before and what she looks forward to in the present day’s activities. Sometimes I read her a story while she was eating; other times we described our dreams. One morning, she described her latest living-color episode: “Nana, I didn’t have any dreams because my dreams were out driving in a pink convertible, and they got pizza and then they had a car picnic. Now they’re on their way to the park.” What a glorious ‘non-dream!’

“Glory.” It is a small word that packs an enormous punch. There is much mystery around that word, at least for me. “An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, Do not be afraid.” (Luke 2:9-10) First off, the glory of the Lord is terrifying! We can’t wrap our minds around such brightness amid the events happening in our world. There also seems to be a connection between the glory of God and light. God’s glory at Advent often showed up in ancient art that depicted the Christ child with a halo of light over his head. Light is used in many religious paintings to symbolize the Presence of God. Jesus is called “the Light” in John 1: “The light came into the darkness and the darkness could not comprehend it.” So much of the majesty and glory of God incarnate is incomprehensible, but as children of God, we are beckoned to pay attention to the Light, to the mysterious Presence that peeks through in both big and small ways.

In Exodus 33:12-18, Moses seemingly pleads with God to show him who will be accompanying him on this journey of leading the chosen people. God responds: “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” Moses presses God a bit more: “Now show me your glory.” That is a bold request coming from a person who already acknowledged his lack of polish in leadership! Here God graciously instructs Moses: when He passes “all of His goodness in front of him”, He will protect Moses by placing him in the cleft of a rock and covering him with His hand. The glory of the living God is just too much; It’s overwhelming and, quite honestly, seems frightening. That is the point, isn’t it? We can’t possibly understand this mystery. It is probably why the book of Revelation intimidates most of us. There’s so much glory and we can’t fully grasp its meaning here on this earth.

I believe children understand glory best and most easily. It is probably why Jesus welcomed them with open arms and implored us to have faith “as a little child”. On Kelli’s 34th birthday in 2020, Violet walked up to her, carefully balancing a red leaf in the palms of her hands. As she held it out and presented it to Kelli (almost like the wise man who brought the gift of frankincense) she said, “This leaf blesses the Lord” and walked away. The newness and innocence of recognizing a little of God’s glory in this way astounds me and weakens me in the knees a little. As we get older and get beaten up by life, our sense of what glory looks like can seem a bit tarnished.

My sweet mother passed away three years ago today at the age of 92. Her name was Goldie, and boy, did she shine, but not in a glitzy kind of way. It came through her gentle spirit and the ways she remembered everyone’s special days. She also had an almost rabid sweet tooth (I certainly can blame her for mine). One of the things that seemed to almost bring her comfort in the last months of her life was pink lozenges. She had a little container on her nightstand, and the caretakers often found several that missed her mouth and ended up on the floor. After her death, I got this endearing text from one of her caretakers: “I hope they have pink lozenges in heaven.” My mom has experienced glory in a way that I can only dream about right now. God has reclaimed her as His own. Paul described it in this way: “Our citizenship is in heaven, and we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.” (Philippians 3:20-21)

In his book, Songs for a Savior’s Birth, William Philip writes, “The message of Christmas is both simple and beautiful: God is calling out from heaven and saying, ‘Come to the sunrise! Rejoice in the light of my beloved Son, Jesus Christ, and the sun will surely rise in your life, bringing the dawn of a new day that never ends, of a sunset that never comes, of a light that is everlasting.’”

I hope this Advent you experience the Presence of Jesus in some small way, with “all of His goodness in front of you” as He places you in the cleft of His rock and covers you with His hand. Some of you are experiencing deep grief and unbelievably challenging places. You and I need His hand, covering us amid deeply painful and disturbing circumstances, ones we don’t understand.

Hear this word from God: “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” This is the message of Christmas: the Christ child came so that people could experience the transforming presence of God.

Today I will host dinner for some dear friends around a table that is graced by my mom”s Christmas dishes. I am confident that she trusted Jesus as Savior over her life. She endured much hardship in this life, from losing her mom at the tender age of five to suffering from chronic pain in her old age. She is free of that now. I am not sure of the theological correctness of this next statement, so please forgive me in advance. I hope she has been riding around in a pink convertible with Jesus, my dad, and others, and I hope there is a stash of pink lozenges in the glove compartment.

O, Come let us adore Him. AMEN.

Painting by my father-in-law, Jerry Miller