Christmas, 2015
25/12/15 01:17
I am blessed to be a person who is very content with the live that has been given to me. I grew up in a loving and supportive family, I was lucky to meet the love of my life when I was young and together we have grown a marriage and a family. Our children are incredibly wonderful people. Our grandchildren amaze us. We’ve had health and meaningful work. There is much for which to be grateful.
Sometimes, however, I do think “what if” kind of questions. “What if my parents had settled in a different location?” “What if I had chosen a different school?” “What if I had taken a different career path?” They are silly questions, I know, but I sometimes persist in thinking about them.
I think that I could have been very happy with a life that had a bit less public exposure. I seem to enjoy very much the opportunities I have to worship with smaller groups of people. I like quiet and calm. I enjoy the peaceful feeling of a nearly empty church.
Last night we had two wonderful opportunities to worship. Like many other program churches, our 7 pm service was busy, a bit hectic, and full of tradition and meaning. It also was a production that required costumes, rehearsals, scripts, lighting, and lots and lots of behind-the-scenes work. The hour before the service was filled with questions and people running around and excitement. The baby’s parents were a bit nervous about the whole affair. Kings forgot where they’d placed their gifts. Someone wanted to know who was running the star. The choir needed just a few more minutes of rehearsal. A musician was a bit unsure of where her part was in the service. The ushers wanted to know about lights and what to do with the candles. I was trying to remember lines that had to be delivered in the dark and was worrying about whether or not all of the people would end up in the right place at the right time.
It was all normal. It was all church. I don’t want to trade all of that for anything. But it was a bit wild for a few minutes.
I felt like going in my office, shutting the door and hiding for a few minutes. I thought better of that feeling and stuck with my role as pastor and worship leader.
The service was wonderful and afterwards many people told me how much they appreciated it.It was what is expected of a church like ours in a community like ours. I’m glad we did not disappoint.
The we went home and took a break and before long it was time to head back to the church for our 11:30 service. The time of the service is intentional, to make the service accessible for shift workers who work until 11 pm. It is a wonderful time for a service.
The attendance surprised me. I knew that the service is growing in popularity, but we didn't expect quite so many. Still it was only about a quarter of the attendance at the 7 pm service. The room is quiet. The music is gentle. There is time to listen and think and pray. We shared a few carols. I recited the birth narrative from Luke’s Gospel. We shared communion. We tolled the bell twelve times at midnight.(OK the attendance meant it took longer to serve communion and we tolled the bell at 12:15.)
A few minutes later, I turned off the lights, locked up the church, and headed home. The air was clear and cold. As we drove out of town, we began to see the stars that are obscured by the lights of the city.
Christmas is not about pageantry and preparation and programs and printed bulletins. Christmas is not about repeating the rituals accurately enough to avoid complaints, while making sure that there is enough change to satisfy the next generation. Christmas isn’t about statistics or numbers or fiscal sustainability or best business practices. Christmas doesn’t require an institution to be real.
As I relaxed at the end of the evening, I recalled a conversation, via voice message with my grandson. “I’m calling to ask you what time was the baby Jesus born. I think that you should know this and that is why I am calling you to find out when the baby was born. I would like to know his birth time.”
I replied that I don’t know for sure, because it was so long ago and his parents didn’t have watches and no one can remember. I think, however, that it might have been at night because the shepherds saw his star.
He replied confidently, “I’ve seen baby Jesus’ star . . . But in the afternoon.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic. It seems quite possible both that Jesus could have been born in the afternoon and that a four-year-old could recognize his star, no matter what time of day it appeared.
When I became a pastor, I never realized that I would be granted such precious conversations. To have a grandson who is filled with wonder at the story and is articulate enough to ask his questions has to be one of life’s great joys for an old pastor.
What time did Christmas come?
Perhaps it was during the pageantry of the big service with the choir and organ and cello and flute and hundreds singing carols.
Perhaps it was at the late service as the bell tolled to greet the new morn.
Perhaps it was as I stepped out of the car on the starlit night and inhaled the cool air of a winter’s evening.
It is just as likely, however, that Christmas came for me around 3 in the afternoon when our grandson asked me a question through the technology of voice messages on my cell phone.
Years from now, when I tell the story, I won’t get the time right. And it shouldn’t surprise us that we don’t know the exact time of Jesus’ birth. Because the truth is that even millennia later, we continue to experience his coming in new and fresh ways every year.
Blessed Christmas to all!
Sometimes, however, I do think “what if” kind of questions. “What if my parents had settled in a different location?” “What if I had chosen a different school?” “What if I had taken a different career path?” They are silly questions, I know, but I sometimes persist in thinking about them.
I think that I could have been very happy with a life that had a bit less public exposure. I seem to enjoy very much the opportunities I have to worship with smaller groups of people. I like quiet and calm. I enjoy the peaceful feeling of a nearly empty church.
Last night we had two wonderful opportunities to worship. Like many other program churches, our 7 pm service was busy, a bit hectic, and full of tradition and meaning. It also was a production that required costumes, rehearsals, scripts, lighting, and lots and lots of behind-the-scenes work. The hour before the service was filled with questions and people running around and excitement. The baby’s parents were a bit nervous about the whole affair. Kings forgot where they’d placed their gifts. Someone wanted to know who was running the star. The choir needed just a few more minutes of rehearsal. A musician was a bit unsure of where her part was in the service. The ushers wanted to know about lights and what to do with the candles. I was trying to remember lines that had to be delivered in the dark and was worrying about whether or not all of the people would end up in the right place at the right time.
It was all normal. It was all church. I don’t want to trade all of that for anything. But it was a bit wild for a few minutes.
I felt like going in my office, shutting the door and hiding for a few minutes. I thought better of that feeling and stuck with my role as pastor and worship leader.
The service was wonderful and afterwards many people told me how much they appreciated it.It was what is expected of a church like ours in a community like ours. I’m glad we did not disappoint.
The we went home and took a break and before long it was time to head back to the church for our 11:30 service. The time of the service is intentional, to make the service accessible for shift workers who work until 11 pm. It is a wonderful time for a service.
The attendance surprised me. I knew that the service is growing in popularity, but we didn't expect quite so many. Still it was only about a quarter of the attendance at the 7 pm service. The room is quiet. The music is gentle. There is time to listen and think and pray. We shared a few carols. I recited the birth narrative from Luke’s Gospel. We shared communion. We tolled the bell twelve times at midnight.(OK the attendance meant it took longer to serve communion and we tolled the bell at 12:15.)
A few minutes later, I turned off the lights, locked up the church, and headed home. The air was clear and cold. As we drove out of town, we began to see the stars that are obscured by the lights of the city.
Christmas is not about pageantry and preparation and programs and printed bulletins. Christmas is not about repeating the rituals accurately enough to avoid complaints, while making sure that there is enough change to satisfy the next generation. Christmas isn’t about statistics or numbers or fiscal sustainability or best business practices. Christmas doesn’t require an institution to be real.
As I relaxed at the end of the evening, I recalled a conversation, via voice message with my grandson. “I’m calling to ask you what time was the baby Jesus born. I think that you should know this and that is why I am calling you to find out when the baby was born. I would like to know his birth time.”
I replied that I don’t know for sure, because it was so long ago and his parents didn’t have watches and no one can remember. I think, however, that it might have been at night because the shepherds saw his star.
He replied confidently, “I’ve seen baby Jesus’ star . . . But in the afternoon.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic. It seems quite possible both that Jesus could have been born in the afternoon and that a four-year-old could recognize his star, no matter what time of day it appeared.
When I became a pastor, I never realized that I would be granted such precious conversations. To have a grandson who is filled with wonder at the story and is articulate enough to ask his questions has to be one of life’s great joys for an old pastor.
What time did Christmas come?
Perhaps it was during the pageantry of the big service with the choir and organ and cello and flute and hundreds singing carols.
Perhaps it was at the late service as the bell tolled to greet the new morn.
Perhaps it was as I stepped out of the car on the starlit night and inhaled the cool air of a winter’s evening.
It is just as likely, however, that Christmas came for me around 3 in the afternoon when our grandson asked me a question through the technology of voice messages on my cell phone.
Years from now, when I tell the story, I won’t get the time right. And it shouldn’t surprise us that we don’t know the exact time of Jesus’ birth. Because the truth is that even millennia later, we continue to experience his coming in new and fresh ways every year.
Blessed Christmas to all!