On Keeping Secrets Until Heaven

Red-Pilled by the Light of the World

“I think I’d rather just wait to find out in Heaven,” is something I have said, only half-jokingly, when certain conspiracy theories begin to make too much sense.

Like, if all of our world leaders really are aliens or lizard people, that’s the kind of thing I think I’d rather just not know. You know? And I’m almost certain that if Morpheus offered me a choice between the red and blue pill, I’d choose the one that caused me to wake up in my bed, continuing to live in my blissful ignorance, especially if the alternative is waking up in a dystopian nightmare, discovering everything I’ve ever known was a lie.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Am I right?

Why am I talking about conspiracy theories? Well, because it’s Advent, of course.

Advent is that time of the year during which we remember and prepare for the coming of Christ, the Light of the World. He came at that first Christmas—and still comes— to dispel the darkness of our hearts, to ignite hope in this fallen world, to reveal the truth to weary hearts and wounded souls.

Here is the thing about the truth in our broken world, though: Sometimes discovering it doesn’t exactly feel…joyful.

For example, what is the real truth behind what lurks in the dark, shadowy bowels of the underneath of my children’s beds? I’m certainly better off knowing than not, but the process of discovery is not one I particularly look forward to.

So it can be with the coming of the Light of Christ. We long for the Savior who will come to rescue us from the darkness of our sin, but when He finally does come, we find ourselves…preferring the dark? Afraid of His light?

How can this be?

Photo by David Monje on Unsplash

On Sunday, as we lit that first candle on the Advent wreath, the readings reminded us of what it means to live in the light of Christ:

It is the hour now for you to awake from sleep.
For our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed;
the night is advanced, the day is at hand.
Let us then throw off the works of darkness
and put on the armor of light.

We now have the light of one candle. Soon, we will light another. And before we know it—nearer now than ever—we will be standing in the full light of day.

Are we ready?

Advent is something of a paradox. We know that Christ is coming as the Light of the World. And yet, at least His coming at that first Christmas was something of a secret.

Sure, the angels sang, “Glory to God in the Highest,” but only the shepherds bore witness to it. If you weren’t keeping watch in the fields that night, or with the Holy Family in the stable itself, Christmas almost certainly just felt like any other night.

Dark. Cold. Long. Maybe a little restless?

We refer to most of Jesus’ earthly life as “hidden.” Scripture tells us that Mary kept certain things within her own heart, pondering them, reflecting on them. The Light of the World didn’t come on that first Christmas like a cop shining a mag light to expose our hidden shame. He came more like that first candle we lit on Sunday. Darkness was dispelled, hope ignited—but the choice to draw near to the light remains ours.

What a mercy it is that Our Lord—the Light of the World—is gentle with us. He longs to reveal the truth to us because He knows it’s what we are made for. It is there, in that light, with Him, where we will find healing, freedom, and our very selves. But if we recoil, He does not scold or shame us. He simply waits. He does not dim His Light, nor take it away from us. He is patient with us, and gently calls us back to Himself.

Why wait “until Heaven” to discover the truth He has for us? What even is Heaven, if not basking in the fullness of His Light? And we can choose to do that today! When you think about it in this way, it’s nothing short of irrational to put it off another minute.

Still, thank you, Jesus, for being gentle, because I am often irrational.

This Advent, let us not be afraid to draw ever nearer, each day, to the full Light of Christ. He loves us right where we are. And a life lived with Him is surely better than living in darkness.