Punching Holes in the Darkness

Can you wear out a CD by playing it over and over again? There are a couples of songs from the group Casting Crowns' Christmas album that I have played over and over in my car as I am driving here and there. "I heard the bells on Christmas day" is one of them. Check out the video. It is not a new song. Henry W. Longfellow wrote the words after a series of absolutely heart-crushing losses.
Casting Crowns version has touched me at a level that I can't quite put into words. The kind of words, the kind of music which make me feel like singing along at the top of my lungs and drop down on my knees at the same time. The part that says "God is not dead, nor does He sleeps" sends good chills down my spine. A breath of fresh air in my lungs. Do you understand that?
Well, I sang my heart out in the car and I had a ball. Did not care a bit what people might think as I am driving by. I am worshipping and I worship best when I sing.

To me these songs capture what we are celebrating this season of Christmas, but not only this season, I hope, but all year long: The answer to the deepest longing of the human heart; A piercing light in the darkness of this crazy world; A light which lights the most broken corners of our souls... A light that reminds us that we are not alone. Jesus!

This has been an incredible month of Advent/Christmas. I had the priviledge of sitting with people as they died; to sit with the families as they mourned; to officiate at a celebration of life for a former parishioner... There is something incrediby precious and humbling about being allowed in at these times.




God is with us. God is for us. God is in us. Emmanuel! That's the other song I have worshipped with these past few weeks.
I sat and worshipped at a longest night/blue Christmas service offered by a local church just a few days ago. I talked with a couple of people I had never met before the service and they opened up some about what brought them there. We were all linked by losses but in the midst of our pain we wanted to trust/we trusted deep down that there is hope. THERE IS HOPE! God is with us. God is for us. God is in us. Emmanuel!

Our service at the church that I serve was wonderful last night. We are small. We don't have the bells and whistles of other bigger congregations but it did not matter. The service was beautiful in its simplicity. The words of the greatest story ever told resonated in our hearts. The tunes of familiar carols echoed in the sanctuary. We were on holy ground. Our faces glowed by candlelight.

I attended another service at the church my grandmother Dorothy attended when she was alive; the church where I heard Jesus calling me and where I responded in fear and trepidation not knowing what was in store (God knew to give me just enough at a time or I would have ran the other way more than likely); the church where a beloved mentor and friend is serviing. It is a much bigger church and their last evening service was wonderful too. We shared bread and juice. The act of coming forth and holding my hand out to receive the elements as I watch the servers' faces always touches me in a deep place. The taste and texture of the bread and the sweetness of the juice combine on my tongue and remind me that Jesus gave his life for me and he keeps giving me Life. God is with us. God is for us. God is in us. Emmanuel!
As we lit our small candles for candlelight, my pastor friend reminded us that we are not only doing this because it is pretty - And it is beautiful whether 80 people are present or 500 - but we do this as a symbol of the light of Jesus coming to punch holes in the darkness.
I thought, YES! But we are the bearers of Jesus' light. Let's not stop at candles in a sanctury, OK? Let US BE the light of the world. Let the light God has placed in us burst forth out of us in the way we live; the way we love; the way we serve; the way we die!

Maybe this is as simple sometimes as visiting folks. I was tired before our worship service yesterday. I told myself I was going to rest all afternoon after being in the church office in the morning making sure things were ready for the evening and the following Sunday. Instead I found myself trying to get one more thing in. Frankly my heart was not really in it at the beginning.
I visited an elderly couple who are members of our church and shut-ins. Had a fruit basket put together by our missions women for them. They don't have much. Tiny house. Simple folks. We shared communion. My sense of tiredness started to lift from witnessing their sense of contentment despite a lot of health issues and meager resources; their gratitude at being alive despite their struggles overwhelmed me.

My last visit of the day was with an 84 year old man, a friend of my Dad's for the last almost 60 years. A former American GI who landed on the beaches of Normandy. He retired out west but is now back in town to be closer to family. Has a hard time adapting to his new surrounding at a local nursing home. I've known of him since I was 8. He never married. Has no kids. Used to teach German and French at a local military academy before retiring. As I talked with him, his mood lifted. We shared a chocolate from the package I had brought. Good chocolate not the cheap stuff. Savored it. Made it last on our tongue as we reminisced of better times for him. As I was ready to leave after a long talk, he started choking up and his eyes welled up. He held my hand as if he were not going to let it go. Said that his day was finishing better than it had started because of the visit.
A little light in the darkness. God is with us. God is for us. God is in us. Emmanuel!