shaping children's faith through story

Tag: traditions

Why did we turn off the lights when we talked about how God made the world? Waiting in Darkness

When my four year old recently asked this question (about the year prior!), I was shocked and delighted at the clarity with which he remembered our first night of Advent. We had cut our tree the day before, and my husband and I secretly strung the lights after the kids went to bed. On Sunday we gathered next to the tree in our living room, lit a candle, and turned off the lights. I explained that it was the first Sunday of Advent, a season for waiting. During Advent, which means “coming,” we remember how the world waited for Jesus to come as a baby in Bethlehem. We also think about the darkness in our own world and hearts as we wait for Christ’s light to come, today. And finally, we wait for Jesus’ second coming, the day when he’ll return to make all things new.

“While we wait,” I whispered with expectancy, “we’re going to tell the story of how the world waited for Jesus. Each night we’ll take turns hanging one ornament on our tree to help us remember. We begin, now, with the very first sentence in the entire Bible [whispered slowly, with awe and wonder]… In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. And God said, ‘let there be light.'” And at this very moment my husband hit the switch for the lights and my kids saw the illuminated tree and garland for the first time that season. It’s a bit dramatic, I know; I absolutely love it! And my son’s recent question affirmed every delicious detail.

I love Advent for how it gives context to our darkness. I know that Jesus saves. I know that God works all things together for our good. But I also know that this world is broken and we join with all of creation in groaning as we eagerly await redemption’s fullness. Like no other season, Advent fills a unique place in my soul that cries out to acknowledge and grieve the particulars of this painful darkness. It doesn’t move me on to joy too quickly, but like my very real life demands that I linger in the waiting. Yet it doesn’t leave me there forever, but leads me to watch for glimmers of the light that will someday break forth as the dawn.

So my family sits in darkness to intensify the glory of the coming light. In our home we try to hold back on most of the festivities until Christmas Eve, which begins a nearly two week period of joyfully celebrating the incarnation. Each morning during Advent my kids open an envelope to discover the special thing we’ll do, that day, to prepare for Christmas. Then before dinner we add an ornament to the tree that symbolizes a story in the history of redemption (our modified version of a Jesse Tree). We do it like this so that we can discuss the story while eating (my kids don’t nap so after dinner we’re all pretty anxious to get them in bed😊). On Christmas Eve we finally pull out the rest of our family’s special Christmas ornaments, adding our unique story to that shared by all Christians. To officially begin our celebration we read Sally Lloyd-Jones’ Song of the Stars and each open one gift (which has been something special to wear to the Christmas Eve service at church).

I hope to write a few more posts about Advent in the coming weeks, but wanted to get this out now as you are making plans for the coming season. If it resonates with you, please subscribe in the sidebar so that you’re notified when I do write more. If you’re curious as to how the specific themes of Advent (waiting, longing, darkness, hope) fit into the whole of the Christian year, you might be interested in Why celebrate the Christian year?. Finally,  please leave a comment if there are particular aspects of Advent or our  traditions about which you are especially curious. Thank you!

How is tonight different than all other nights?

 

This week we invited three other families with young children to join us for a very simplified version of a Christian Seder. The evening was designed to engage our kids in the telling of redemption’s Story, so as to situate their own lives in the broader context of that continuing drama. If you aren’t familiar with this tradition, I’ve explained it more fully here.

Thus, eight adults and seven (very young!) children gathered around our dinner table, Thursday evening. One key aspect of a Seder is that the youngest child asks four questions which provide the framework for telling the Story. In keeping with the spirit of this tradition, we had assigned one question to each of our three year olds. So candles lit and table set, we joined other families around the world in detailing how this night is different than all other nights.

“Why do we drink wine and grape juice tonight?” Piper began. “Tonight we drink wine and grape juice,” I explained, “because at the last supper Jesus gave wine to his disciples, promising that someday he’d drink with them, again, at the marriage supper of the lamb! Until then, though, we drink remembering the new covenant—God’s promise of forgiveness—established through Jesus’ blood. And so we drink both in anticipation and in remembrance of him.”

And then came my son, “Why do we eat unleavened bread, tonight?” I’d assigned him this question knowing that we’d have just baked the bread together 2 hours prior. And so I explained what he already knew. “Normally we let our bread spend all day rising before we bake it into a nice, puffy loaf,” I smiled. “But tonight we eat unleavened—or unrisen—bread to remember how when the Israelites were freed from Egypt they had to leave quickly, not even having time for their bread to rise! Yeast has also come to represent sin, so on this night we remember Jesus, the sinless one, who said, ‘I am the bread of Life’ and ‘This is my body, broken for you.’ And so we eat, recalling both the Israelites’ freedom and Jesus’ love.”

Kai was next to ask, “Why are we eating bitter herbs, tonight?” Furrowing my brow I responded, “tonight we remember the bitterness of Pharaoh’s cruel slavery when the Israelites were in Egypt, as well as the bitterness of our bondage to sin.” Here my expression lightened and I tried to smile while explaining that we get to eat the bitter herbs with a sweet apple salad called charoset because God, who works all things together for the good of those who love him, can bring sweetness even out of the most bitter circumstances.

Finally it was Evy’s turn to wonder, “Why are we dipping our herbs twice, tonight?” Again, I tried to communicate yet another tension in our faith. “This salt water reminds us of the Israelites tears, whereas the parsley represents new life. We, too, experience sadness in this broken world, but Jesus promised that just as he was resurrected to new life, someday he will come back and make us new. In this day he will wipe away all of our tears and we will live with him forever!”

After these four questions we enjoyed a hearty meal of lamb, chicken, mashed potatoes, and roasted carrots (provided by all of the women present; when people offer to contribute I generally don’t refuse!). Toward the end of dinner I explained that about 40 years after Jesus died Jerusalem was attacked and the Jewish people were scattered into all different countries where they lived in exile for almost 1900 years. It was only 70 years ago, this spring, that they were finally able to go home. While  in these foreign countries, they ended each Passover meal by expressing the hope, “Next year in Jerusalem!” “We, too, are living as foreigners,” I reminded those around my table, “away from our eternal home with Jesus. So let us conclude with our own toast, ‘Next year in the New Jerusalem!’” And with that we toasted and ate dessert.

I felt really good about the night! The entire dinner lasted just over an hour, which was perfect for our little ones. I think the formative value in such a tradition isn’t so much the experience, in and of itself, but feeling included in a larger group and the repetition through the years. If you read my post about the crucifixion, you’ll appreciate that described some elements using language that would most likely go over young children’s heads, while allowing the evening to be meaningful for family members of all ages. I would have loved to incorporate more space for silent reflection, but with so many little ones we moved things along pretty quickly. Please feel free to use anything in this post that you find helpful! I developed my script borrowing from several websites, as well as my own sense of the story. The blog that I relied on most heavily was Ann Voskamp. Her liturgy is stunningly beautiful. I would love to borrow even more of it when our kids get a bit older, but given our context I didn’t feel I could be quite that poetic. But please check hers out!

He is Risen!

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