Sunday, December 24, 2006

My dearest God,

Christmas Day comes once a year but the spirit of Christmas is available anytime. I drove to the church early for the Christmas Eve service. It didn't begin until 6:00 p.m. but I wanted to be alone with God, to give my offering. One car sat in the parking lot. I may not be alone, I said to myself. I walked into the sanctuary. Our music director had beat me to the church. It's okay, I thought. He and I needed to meet anyway to go over the service.

After a brief conversation he began rehearsing, playing our new Estonia piano. Something came over me. I felt such gratitude in my heart. I simply could not hold on to my offering, waiting for a better time alone. And so I danced. There in the sanctuary candles glimmered, music played, and I danced in my black lace dress. I had dressed up, wearing my best for Jesus. Tears formed in my eyes as I realized God had provided music for the dance, another gift of Christmas.

I had dimmed the sanctuary lights and as night fell upon the church, the glow of a single white candle against the dark stone wall was exquisite, a rare form of beauty, its aura spreading. We sang the songs of Christmas, moms and dads, black and white, the hurting and the celebrating. God was ever so present in God's own house.

Harold read the birth story. "And there was in the field shepherds abiding over their flocks..." I heard the story I had been waiting to hear all month, the familiar story of God's coming. The star shining, the angels singing, the shepherds running, the baby crying. I followed them all the way to the manger. I was just as mystified as they when we entered the stable, quietly creeping to the feeding trough turned bed. With my own eyes I saw the holy couple, Mary nursing her newborn infant. We fell to our knees, imparting honor to the Holy One of Christmas. "And he shall be called Jesus."

The eyes of the people were fixed upon me as I shared the story from the perspective of the innkeeper who was too busy and preoccupied to join the celebration. Didn't even know it happened at his own place. Could we relate to this merchant whose busyness kept him from the manger? I urged the crowd to make space, to clear away the clutter, to meet Christ at the creche. I was inside the story, crying out to the others to join me in the holy space I had longed to visit for a whole year.

Later when the people began to come down the aisle, they walked toward the holy family sitting on the bale of hay. Dad rocked his son as mother gently patted his head. At the manger they received the gift of Christmas, the body and blood of Christ, the sacrament of Holy Communion. Hungry, like me, they were hungry for the food only God can give. We ate until we were full.

I held my white pillar candle in my hand as I spoke of Jesus as the light of the world. I took light from the Christ candle, then began to light the candles of others. The lights were turned off as our own lights began to shine. "Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright..." We sang as if we were the only people on earth witnessing the cosmic event.

Later we held our lights high above our heads. We were no longer a single light, but a magnificent display of God's light shining into the world. We were the light, lightbearers of Christ.

The hugging began as we offered seasons greetings to one another. We all felt something inside ourselves. What we were offering was something much more than a greeting, a hug, a handshake. We were giving Jesus to one another.

As the sanctuary emptied, I moved up in the darkened room lighted only by the Advent candle and the single lone candle on the altar. I thought of how much one light can penetrate the darkness. I stood offering my thanks. Filled with wonder for all the gifts I've received, not presents tucked under a tree, but gifts of the spirit, I was amazed. God had replenished my spirit. I was indeed full. And so, I made my last offering of the night. Since morning I had carried my own song to the manger. Now I wanted to sing it. In the silence my voice echoed out, "Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see..."

Clearly, I see you so clearly,
my dearest Savior.
Your light penetrated my own darkness,
relieving me of burdens past.
I listened, followed your leading.
I wrote letters,
I spoke,
I gave myself
to others
by giving myself to God.
I gave
exactly what God had asked me
to give.
I need nothing more;
I have received it all.
And so I blew out
the last candle,
walked into the darkness,
Christ and I.

Love to you always, Andrea