It's All About Remembering

Last Saturday it was -31°C when my wife and I walked over to the farmers’ market (an indoor venue of course). It’s only about five city blocks, and there was no wind, but -31 (-24 American) is cold enough to be an interesting experience. And it’s more than an aching face; things actually sound different at that temperature, and we could hear the crunching of tires on the snowy streets several blocks away. The next morning when we left for church it had dropped to -36°C (-33°F) and they say it was -46°C (-50.8°F) at the airport, which is why nobody lives at the airport. And we’re told that the wind chill was -58°C (-73°F). That’s the coldest temperature recorded in North America that day, and the second coldest in the world.

So, why do over a million people live in the Greater Edmonton Area? Well, there are actually lots of good reasons, but at -58°C we’re reduced to only one; sheer and irrepressible HOPE. We know that regardless how bitter it is today, spring will come eventually. At least it always has. And, just to encourage us, mini-springs happen all the time. Those of you who have only known minus ten as a temperature you can go down to, cannot possibly comprehend how different it is when you go up to minus ten.

And HOPE is why Christmas, which was essentially created by Europeans, has quite arbitrarily, and understandably, attached itself to the latter part of December. It’s a dark time in northern lands – for me the Sun rose at a quarter to nine this morning, and will set this afternoon at a quarter past four – and the cold weather, my introduction notwithstanding, doesn’t really even start till January.

So, what is my point in all of this? Well, it’s experience that makes life possible because it makes hope possible. We trust that rest will follow toil, harvest will follow planting, peace will follow war, healing will follow injury, not because they must but because, for the most part, they always have. Perhaps this is why children, and childish adults, become so upset with little bumps and disappointments. They lack the perspective that comes, or should come, with experience.

And we who have experienced the love and peace of God, and his faithfulness in the midst of trouble, find ourselves hoping even when despair seems more in keeping with the situation. We know, of course, that we will have our share of trouble, but in spite of cold and darkness, fear and longing, pain and sorrow, we also know that he will come. He is Emmanuel, God with us, and at this cold, dark time of year we tell the story of his coming, like the springtime, like new life and new love, and like that little baby born in Bethlehem.

Yes, this is hope, to know that he will come. Because he must? No, he’s God after all, and no one can make him do anything. Because he always has.