When I was a little girl I would leave my large family gathering Christmas Eve and by myself attend the Christmas Eve service at my county seat church. Sometimes I had a job, like reading or lighting a candle; but most often I just waited through the songs and the sermon to get to the part where Jesus was born! The lights would go down and the candles would dance through to old sanctuary. Families would away back and forth together singing and the calm and peaceful moment made me believe in something more.
Eventually I moved out on my own but continued to go to church especially on Christmas Eve. In 1991, at the age of 20 I made my way to that very familiar church once again. Smelling like smoke, pregnant and all alone, I snuck in late. As the reader told the angel story hot tears streamed down my face. I was ashamed and scared and alone. I had isolated and created walls and felt unloveable. Yet somewhere inside the sacred story and the old songs; the candles that danced something began to change. "Good news for all the world, a savior who is Christ the Lord."
Slowly from that moment on Jesus began to bring about hope in my life. Christmas Eve had always been important but now... life changing.
Fast forward 25 years, I am now a pastor, living in an affluent community. That broken young 20 year old is long gone. And now I am up to my eye balls in church busyness. Important things, gifts to deliver, budgets to figure out, greeter schedules to fill out, the list goes on and on. I can't help but wonder if I have missed something? If I have sold out? The awe I once felt is tarnished and the feelings of anticipation for the Christ child have been replaced by feelings of dread. Advent, a time of preparation is replaced with a race to the finish; hoping to not die at the end. Christmas Eve Midnight service is something to do not to experience.
I write this only as a confession and a longing for what was. Sitting with a God who longs too for something more with me. So I simply say Ugh.
