The presents have been unwrapped, the long-distance guests have gone home, and the meals have been served and cleared. The grand events and liturgies, joyful though they may have been, are in the rearview mirror, and it’s just a matter of time before the ornaments return to the basement for their 11-month residency.
The busy part of the season has passed. Now, it is time for stillness.
I love the mystery of Advent and the festive gatherings of Christmas Eve, and I love the discoveries and stories of Epiphany. But I really love the week or so of mostly-quiet days that make up the short but beautiful season of Christmas, because, to me, it’s an oasis of stillness and rest that allows my heart, at its own pace, to receive the gift and the message of Christ’s presence in our world.
Hardly just the absence of movement or noise, stillness carries an energy all its own. It is a window onto the eternal, a moment to see and receive the presence of God that infuses every moment of our lives. It is a moment to hear the quiet voice of God that is far too often overwhelmed by the constant clanging of our modern world. Stillness is a space in which the divine spark within us can receive the oxygen it needs to burn brightly.
It isn’t magic or miracle: it’s grace. Stillness is a gift of readiness in which we receive the spirit of God, beyond words and beyond ideas.
In just a few days, we begin the season of Epiphany, a time to carry the spark that we’ve been given out into the world, in service and prayer and proclamation. For now, in these days of stillness and rest, we kindle and tend that flame so that when the time comes, we can be ready to share it with the world.
