This winter, we thought we would try something a little different by sending out a weekly reflection on the major themes of Advent. At the time, it was intended to be a more personal series of conversation starters for church leaders and congregants who might be feeling a little stuck in where to take each of these ideas. By the end of the four weeks, however, it felt like the emails had expanded as a creative project into something that people might want to check out throughout the year, so we have collected them here as a super-sized, year-end gift bag.

They’re a little different than our usual work—unconcerned with organizational recommendations or marketing, and they aren’t intended to prescribe any sort of behavior for church leaders. In a way, these might best be understood as some of the ideas we were wrestling with this holiday season. 

We hope you enjoy.

Hopey Holidays: Brice’s Reflections on Hope

I’m not a Christmas person at all. 

It’s not like I’m the Grinch. I just find the season pretty disheartening.

That’s probably a strange way to kick off an email about Advent, especially when the theme of the first week is hope. 

I’ve just always been this way. I’ve attended Christmas services and sermons in the lead-up to the holiday, and I often feel hollow when I exit the sanctuary and see everyone else radiating, well, hope. For Christians, the focus is usually placed on what we should feel, not on what we do feel.

 I’ve wondered—if I don’t feel it, what does that say about me?

Before this turns any drearier, my point is this—despite your church’s best efforts, there will be people who feel isolated by precisely the kind of language that is intended to invite them in.

This is the challenge of hope.

ABSENCE & ADVENT

If you’ve heard a typical Advent service, a common thread is that they reflect on disappointment. There’s some discussion of all the material things that let us down at Christmas before a triumphant segue to how Christ can offer hope.

These sermons pit “false” hope against “real” hope and expect that the conclusion will be obvious. After all, if you contrast the image of hallmark sentimentality with the image of the manger, one of those should feel more real—more deserving of hope, right? 

Maybe not. I sometimes wonder if our focus subtly shifts to iconography instead of its purpose—like we stop just before getting to the real “so what?” of the holiday so that the symbol usurps what it represents. We point to the manger instead of pointing past it. Some people may be able to naturally take the next step to “the real,” or at least find comfort purely in an icon, but for others, it will remain an image that dissipates on December 26th, just like the faux-warmth of a Christmas film. 

So, what would it look like for churches to present a more robust hope during Advent?

Honestly, I’m not sure. That’s above my theological paygrade, but I do know that for some people, the bleak midwinter will stay bleak, and that’s a space for churches to extend extra grace in light of the weight of their message. 

To some people, Christmas will always feel cathartic—like the culmination of hope—but to others, it will always just feel like hope deferred. It will make them acutely aware of hope’s absence, and this is difficult to reconcile with God’s presence.

Some people in your church need more than commiseration. They need you to hope for them.

Don’t Get Passed by Peace: Amelia’s Reflections on Peace

Advent’s four themes feel ironic to me. 

Not to be confused with Christmas—a season of unmistakable celebration—Advent embraces waiting (and even sorrow) over what isn’t yet complete. Yet our guide through the dark not-yet-ness is Advent’s four themes: hope, peace, joy, and love. 

When it comes to peace, I wonder if this seemingly ironic distinction between Advent (waiting) and Christmas (celebration) might help us to understand God’s peace in more than one way. One day, all things will be made right and we celebrate this coming peace on earth every Christmas. Yet today, everything is, in fact, not right and it’s God’s peace that meets us in our waiting, which we embrace during Advent. What—at first glance—appears to be ironic, may just highlight our meager view of the all-encompassing peace of God. 

A BIGGER, BETTER, FATTER, FULLER PEACE

Where does your mind wander when you hear the word, “peace?” Mine goes several places. I have an image of a peace protest I saw on the news as a kid. I think of the phrase “peace with God.” I think back to a time where I was finally reconciled with a close friend. For years, my mind has also held onto a weird scene from Kung Fu Panda about inner peace. (It’s probably irrelevant, but I’ll link it in the resources below just in case.) 

My personal concept of peace is kind of all over the place. 

I can only speak about my own experience, but, in contrast to my own mental pathways on the topic, the peace we talk about during Advent feels limited—peace on earth, Prince of peace, and sleeping in heavenly peace (and other forms of snowfall or manger imagery). 

When it comes to the “sleeping in heavenly” brand of peace, I do wonder how much is borrowed from quaint, Thomas Kinkade-like depictions of snowy towns at Christmas, but that’s for another time. Regardless, it feels like we spend Advent trying to make up the peace deficit, so to speak. We see tumult in the world and feel it in ourselves, so we reassure ourselves that Jesus brings “peace on earth” that makes things right. In no way do I mean to diminish this impulse, but I wonder if God offers a bigger peace than we think we want. It’s a peace that not only fixes what was broken, but fully completes and further enriches everything God made. God’s peace meets us in our darkness, will be present when all things are reconciled to God, and permeates every step in between. 

A bigger, fuller view of peace gives us space to wait in Advent peace, space to celebrate Christmas peace, and space for all that’s in between. A few of the resources below might help paint a better picture than I’m able to offer, but I think there is something to be said for sitting in the dark, suspenseful not-yet-ness of Advent before jumping into the celebration of Christmas. 

I hope you’ll join me. 

Just Joy: Amelia’s Reflections on Joy

I don’t know if you can relate to this, but around the third week of December, things start to get a little crazy. Whether it’s preparation for another gathering, the realization that I need to get started on my grandiose plans for homemade gifts, or nailing down the details of Christmas Day with extended family, there’s no denying—the frenzy is in full swing. Joy, the third theme of Advent, comes in a timely manner during a season of palpable celebration. 

Joy is different from happiness because it can be cultivated even in unhappiness. Especially at church, we tend to harp on this distinction. In fact, sometimes it’s all we talk about. However, if joy isn’t happiness, what is it?

WHAT IS ADVENT JOY?

Dr. Pamela King is a researcher who’s taken an interest in understanding the (often complex) quality we know as joy. In an interview with Dr. Jamie Aten of Psychology Today, she observed that, “…joy is most fully understood as a virtue that involves our thoughts, feelings, and actions in response to what matters most in our lives. Thus, joy is an enduring, deep delight in what holds the most significance.” 

It’s easy to oversimplify the distinction between joy and happiness, quickly jumping to joy’s correlated action, rejoicing—which can always be practiced (1 Thessalonians 5:16). If we’re going to rejoice fully this Advent season, we must understand what joy is before quickly jumping to what it is not. 

As a whole, the Amenable team isn’t made up of joy researchers, theologians, or seasoned church leaders. We’re not here to tell you what you should do with Advent Joy, but we do hope to cast vision for how your church could think well about joy. 

Perhaps, understanding that joy is deeply connected with what matters most in our lives gives us a starting point to talk about joy. It also may help us uncover how to best hold space for joy’s counterpart, sorrow, even through rejoicing. 

Equipped with Scripture’s view of joy—Fruit of the Spirit to cultivate (Gal 5:22), a gift received from God (John 16:24), and an outlook that can persist despite trials (James 1:2)—we hope you and your church can not only know what joy is not, but, together, explore more fully what it is as we rejoice this Advent season. 

Let Love Lead: Brice’s Reflections on Love

I can’t think of any Christmas songs about Jesus being a human. 

I mean, sure, some mention it, but it’s never the focus. Despite the fact our Christology affirms Jesus’ humanity, I think we often have a tacit discomfort with it.

Even when we imagine a grubby stable, it’s still visibly “holy.” Maybe the straw is soiled, but everyone is visibly radiant. Maybe it’s dingy, but a hole in the ceiling allows the light of the star to illuminate the room. It’s like we’re unable to fully humanize the birth of Christ, and I think this greatly affects our understanding of love, both God’s love for us and the way we should embody it.

If we are emulating Christ but we picture him as otherworldly, it allows us to severely lower our standards for what it means to love others. I know I’ve justified my complacency before by saying, “Well, I mean, Jesus is God, so it’s not like I can do the same thing.” At worst, I completely check out, and at best, I adopt an unmoved austerity that keeps people at arm’s length.  

Depending on your theological inclinations, you may believe Christ’s humanity was primarily adopted for substitutionary atonement—its function. I would argue that there’s more to it than only that—that the form matters too. 

I think Christ stepped into the human condition to also be unconditionally human. 

THE INVITATION OF LOVE

An incomplete understanding of Christ’s love allows us to believe our own love can be unaffected. If you’ve ever heard someone say, “I love you, but I don’t like you,” you know in your gut that the statement is untrue, and yet we often act like we can love others without full participation in the world. We can become insular in the name of interiority, and I think that runs counter to what we see in Christ.

Like I said last time, my point is not to prescribe a behavior as much as it is to question what we leave unquestioned. How would our outreach—especially around Christmas—change if we understood the full humanity of Christ’s love along with its divinity, rather than implicitly prioritizing the latter? What blind spots would we notice if we didn’t resort to the “well, I’m not God” brand of apathy?  

I don’t know the answer in your context, but I do know that God’s love is strong enough to not only withstand questions, but to invite them. 

Maybe that should be the starting point this Christmas as we head into the new year.

🎄 🎄 🎄

Addendum: Collected Holiday Resources

HOPE

• In The Bleak Midwinter by John Van Deusen – The hopeful melancholia of Van Deusen’s “All Shall Be Well” carries throughout this low-key Christmas album, and I’m a big fan.
• Liturgies for Uncertainty by Culture Care Podcast — I adore Mako Fujimura’s CultureCare project. This year, its long-dormant podcast returns with an Advent series inviting listeners to “lean into the discomfort of the uncertain, of the almost-but-not-yet parts of our humanity.” It’ll be awesome.
• Peppermint Meringue Cookies by Epicurious — There’s no hidden spiritual meaning here. These just look really good and everybody should attempt a meringue during the holidays.

PEACE

• Shalom / Peace by The Bible Project – This short video serves as a concordance on peace, so to speak, as it walks us through a holistic, Biblical representation of shalom. If this email is too long, just watch the video instead—it’s worth every second. 
• Want to Get Into the Christmas Spirit? Face the Darkness by Tish Harrison Warren – The author of one of my favorite books tackles the value of Advent preparation for Christmas. While the article isn’t specifically about peace, it gives meaning and context to Advent as a whole. 
• O Day of Peace That Dimly Shines by Josh Garrels – A new rendition of a Christmas hymn that paints peace as both an end to conflict and an abundance of flourishing, acknowledging it as a gift from God, while affirming humanity’s responsibility to cultivate it. 
• Inner Peace—Kung Fu Panda

JOY

• Liturgy for Embracing Both Joy & Sorrow by Douglas McKelvey – Simply put, this prayer has guided me to hold both joy and sorrow rightly. I hope it does the same for you. 
• Lord, Remind Me by Jon Guerra – I stumbled upon this song a few years ago and find my way back every December. It’s a Christmas song that somehow acknowledges deep sorrow without conceding joy—all with beautiful instrumentation.
• The Dawning of Indestructible Joy: Daily Readings for Advent by John Piper – This 25-day devotional (recommended by Anna) aims to strengthen the joy of Christmas throughout the entire season of Advent. 

LOVE

• Christmas Songs by Jars of Clay — Short of Mariah Carey, I think this is one of the best Christmas albums. It sounds like being snowed in.
• Waiting for God by Simone Weil — This isn’t an Advent book, and as T.S. Eliot noted, everyone can find something to disagree with in Weil’s writing. That said, if you’re someone who struggles with Christmas, I think Weil’s own struggles with God and faith can be quite comforting. 
• The Littlest Watchman by Scott James — If you want a resource for the whole family, this is a children’s book for Advent. Like many of my recommendations throughout this series, it largely explores waiting and waiting well.