O Come, O Come Emmanuel Verse 6

O Come, Thou Dayspring from on high

And cheer us by thy drawing nigh

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night

And death's dark shadow put to flight.

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

Today's verse makes me think about some of the things I've thought about doing my other Lenten observance this year.  My friend Clara wrote once about going to a no-artificial light rule in Lent (at the apartment, obviously, I have to teach class).  I'm not entirely doing this -- it's more of a "no overhead light" rule.

But it's proven a significant challenge.  For one thing: my bathroom is NEVER well-lit.  I've started doing my hair only after I arrive at school.

That very challenge of an always-dark bathroom, however, has given me a kind of window into the meaning of this verse.  I imagine what I would think of that room, all the things I would miss about the truth of that room, if candles and/or my lantern or (most commonly) my iPhone light were all that I ever had to judge it by.  What would I think of me, seeing myself mostly in the ghostly reflection of those lights?

I wouldn't think the same thing as I do now, with the benefit of a blazing overhead light that appears whenever I flip the switch.

And it's hard not to see that as a metaphor for how I've at times treated my relationship with God.  A blindingly powerful switch I want to be able to turn on and off at my will.  Rather than living with.

I wonder what I'm missing in the shadows of this fallen world that will suddenly seem clearer and different when the Light of God shines down properly.  For the most part, I don't think I would have essentially misunderstood the purpose of anything -- but I can imagine myself bumping my head against the bit of wall that inexplicably juts out over the dryer without ever fully realizing what it was that was hurting me if I hadn't ever seen it in the full light.

As clever as any deduction I make by candlelight are, there are severe limits to them.  Even to the understandings born of a life lived in faith -- in the light of God's presence.  By which I mean, there are shadows even during the daytime when natural light floods some rooms of the apartment but not all.

And I can get by to do anything I need to do nearly as well (although I have to be more careful about the timing of when I do things).

But there is an essential understanding missing.  Something to remember whenever I am frustrated that I don't have this world all figured out -- or, even moreso, when I begin to think that I do.