It has been a quiet day at our house. I made myself sleep in so I that I would have the energy to get through this evening of services and greetings. I baked a few cookies and put the finishing touches on my comments for this evening’s services. I was still in my pyjamas when a Christmas angel dropped off a plate of homemade cookies.
This is my 35th year of conducting Christmas Eve services. They have ranged from small intimate gatherings in little rural churches to crowded noisy affairs with a few hundred people. They have been tinged with sadness and filled with joy. They have always included many of the favoured carols and, of course, the beloved story from Matthew and Luke telling of the Nativity of Jesus. I love Christmas Eve and all that is means and what it represents in the human drama.
I love that it is about a child born, one who will make a difference. I love that it is a truth held in story, an improbably and unlikely story but one that captures our imaginations and our hearts and moves us to ponder the deep human struggle of homelessness and poverty, of oppression and loneliness. It is a story that speaks to the condition that many refugees and homeless find themselves facing this very night. It also speaks to those of us who live in fortunate and comfortable conditions. It tells of the conundrums of the human condition and what it means to have God reach into the very fabric of our lives.
I hear people gathering in the sanctuary as I type this. The hum of conversation the occasional squawk of a little one. This is Christmas. People gathering to be reminded that God is in our life. What a blessing.
Kevin just came by my office door. I told him I was writing my blog and asked if there was anything he wanted to say. “Just Merry Christmas and you can quote me.” And so I do. Merry Christmas. May the message of God’s love touch your heart and life tonight and always.
