Unboxing Hope
Table Talk
Setting the Table
You are welcome here. Come just as you are, bringing whatever is on your heart today. Take a few moments and allow yourself to just be. Take a couple deep breaths, grab yourself a cup of coffee, light a candle, do something that brings you comfort. Allow yourself to be present in this moment.
Consider how a single candle’s gentle glow can push back the shadows in a darkened room.
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.
— Anne Lamott
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
― Emily Dickinson
John 1:1-5
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.
Food for Thought
This weekend, as many of us were boxing up Thanksgiving leftovers, we also began the yearly ritual of unboxing Christmas — pulling out the bins from the attic or the back of the closet, checking which bulbs have survived another year, stretching strands across porches, windows, and trees.
We take out those precious ornaments made by tiny hands that have now grown. We discover pine needles still clinging on from last year. We position every candle to twinkle just right.
This ritual is tender — part memory, part longing.
When we pull our lights from the box, we are doing more than decorating. We are getting ready — ready for something our hearts long to remember even when our minds forget — the quiet arrival of hope in the midst of despair, the gentle nudge of peace that stills unrest, the surprising spark of joy within the grief, the radiant warmth of love entering a hurting world.
Every year around this time, the days get shorter, and the darkness settles in earlier than we’d like. And every year, we respond the same way: we light things up. We push back the shadows with tiny bulbs and twinkling strands. We add lights to our trees or fences or our rooftops. We place candles in our windows, on our tables, on our wreaths.
We do this not because everything around us feels merry and bright — but because something in us refuses to let darkness be all that there is. We ready ourselves for the light that meets us right where we are. We ready ourselves for a hope that has always found its way into the dark.
It can feel a bit bold to kindle light when the shadows of our world seem to stretch wider every day. The world around us is heavy with heartbreak. Our neighbors are hurting or afraid. News cycles remind us daily how fragile peace can be. Uncertainty stretches further than we can see. The darkness is pressing in.
There are nights — and some of us may be living through one now — when hope feels almost impossible. When sleep will not come and morning seems distant. We wonder if dawn will ever break again. We wonder if this year — of all years — the light might be too small.
Advent knows the ache. It does not demand certainty of us. Instead, it whispers: There is room for all that we bring into this season.
Advent holds space for longing.
Advent reminds us that light is on the way.
Advent invites us into the practice of hope.
Not hope as a feeling — but the gritty kind of hope, the kind that shows up.
Even when we do not feel ready.
Even when we’re tired.
Even when we’re grieving.
Even when the world feels unsteady.
This kind of hope reminds us that every night — every single one — ends with morning. Advent hope reminds us that light returns, and that God is always faithful.
When we put up our Christmas lights or gather around a single flame on the Advent wreath, we are practicing hope — a holy defiance in our world. We are saying that the story is not finished yet. We are choosing — again — to believe that goodness is real and God is near, that love shows up in real places and real lives, that joy is still possible and that peace is still promised.
And we do this together — because we know that hope grows when it is shared, and light multiplies when it is gathered.
Hope is choosing to kindle light even while the darkness still surrounds us.
Hope is opening our weary hearts to the possibility that God is doing something new — even if we cannot yet see how.
Hope is trusting that Love is already on the move, already drawing near, already reaching for us in our darkest places.
Let this be the hope we practice.
Let this be the hope that holds us.
Let this be the hope that we are unboxing this season.
For the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it.
This week, light a candle daily — on an Advent wreath, in a window, or on a table — intentionally offering it as a symbol of hope. You could also string up lights somewhere inside or outside your home and turn them on at night as a symbol of hope.
The holidays are upon us and maybe you are finding yourself slightly nervous. It can be hard to know how to navigate or approach all that might divide us if brought up in conversation. To help our readers navigate this season, our team created a short resource to provide you with Five Things to Remember When Setting a Welcome Table for the Holidays! We hope it will help you set a welcoming space before your guests even arrive!
For a printable version of today's reflection Click Here!
Blessing
God of Hope,
Be with us in the heaviness of our days and in the weariness of our hearts. Let your light shine in the corners of our lives where shadows linger. Let your hope take root in us and grow this season. Help us to see the ways we can be light for one another — in kindness, in presence, in listening, in love.
Amen.
A little Table Talk for your table...
When you think about the “lights” in your own life, what are the small lights that have helped you find hope?
Can you think of a time when acting with hope felt bold? What was that like for you?
How might noticing small lights in the world change the way we as individuals or as communities move through daily life?
Try taking it to the Kids Table...
When has a little light — like a candle or a Christmas light — helped you feel less scared or sad?
What do you think it means to be a light in the world?
What are small ways we can show hope to people around us this week?
Meet This WEek’s Writer...
Lin Story-Bunce is a North Carolina native and lovingly calls Greensboro, NC home. She earned a Masters of Divinity from Wake Forest University and has served a wonderful and thoughtful congregation at College Park Baptist Church since 2009, pastoring to families and their faith development. Most of all, Lin loves the moments she gets to connect with her family, snowboarding with her wife, and keeping up with their four kiddos and two energetic pups. Lin is a teacher, preacher, dreamer, and procrastinator who has a knack for trying to do way too many things in far too little time.
To hear more from Lin throughout the week, follow along on our Instagram!