Scratched onto a wall at Auschwitz are three lines of a poem:
I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining.
I believe in love even when I don’t feel it.
I believe in God even when God is silent.
In those dark, grim and deadly days, some prisoner – we don’t who -- a man or woman, girl or boy, was able to see in his or her heart that even though the current situation was unspeakably dark, hope remained possible, good could be redeemed from evil, and new life could emerge from death somehow, some way, some day.
I believe in the sun even when it’s not shining.
I believe in love even when I don’t feel it.
I believe in God even when God is silent.
It’s an affirmation of faith to say that.
But it sure isn’t easy to say that during our dark days when God is silent; when love is forsaken; and all is dark.
How do we face difficulties – hardship, loss, unknowing, doubt, disgrace – and still hold onto our faith in God? How do we believe “even when . . .”
That’s what we’re going to explore these next four Sundays. During Advent, we’re going to take a look at the first chapter of each of the four gospels to see what they have to tell us about the birth of Jesus and how to believe “even when ...”
See you in church,
Annie