By LPJ
I met Mary for the tenth time last Sunday, but only then did I start to know her more. Mary is not her real name. She exudes an innocence that camouflages a naivete. She speaks with a slightly furrowed brow that tells that her words flow from deep thoughts. She holds views about the world and stands by her own beliefs with a passion. Yet her world is all her own. When she comes out of her shell, she expects utopia, a place with people who are at the very least near perfect. And when they’re not, she crawls back into her shell and languishes there with no one else but a faithful and submissive dog.
I invited Mary to church and she came last Sunday wide-eyed and curious, her first in a Christian worship place. The sanctuary was livened up with eight lavishly lighted Christmas trees, and five big candles standing stalwart in the middle of a wreath with red colored ribbons on the sides. The band played with much gusto that moved the congregation to robust singing. Being the first day of Advent, the first candle of hope was lighted by a family after their testimony about their faith. The sermon was appropriate for the theme of the service — that the Word was with the beginning of the old creation and made flesh in the new creation in the person of Jesus Christ.
Mary didn’t understand that, she said.
I tried to be sensitive in my response. One would have to know Jesus to understand that message on the first day of Advent. It’s the season of anticipation, for keeping the hope in the promise realized in the birth of Jesus Christ. We celebrate His birth with festive appeal, in the lights that brighten the Christmas trees, in the carols we sing, in the multi-colored décor that shouts out cheer, in the conviviality and gaiety in the atmosphere. But significantly, we celebrate His birth spiritually in preparing or keeping our hearts in the best possible condition, because He dwells in us. I wanted to say all these to Mary, but I didn’t.
Well, I did say some, but not more. Mary mentioned after the worship service that she felt overwhelmed. Too many lighted trees on the sanctuary, too many loud and vibrant hymns and carols, too much allusion to the connection between verses in Genesis and the book of John in the Bible, too many strangers smiling, greeting and welcoming. The very reasons why I appreciated and enjoyed that service on the first day of Advent. Advent is a season of joy and rejoicing — a powerful reminder of the Father’s immeasurable love for us by sending His only son Jesus to the world for our redemption.
I’d like to share that joy with Mary, so I ventured into another bold invitation. I asked her to let me know when she’d like to come to church with me again. A soft yes, and that was enough for me. Then hopefully (and prayerfully), I will tell her all the thoughts I wanted to share with her that Sunday – about the very reason for the joy of Advent.