Christmas Eve, 2005

It’s been non-stop today. Trying to get the house clean for my parents, grocery shopping, buying last-minute gifts, helping with moving Aunt and Uncle, church, having family over for snacks, then putting together toys for the little one so everything would be set up when she arrives tomorrow with her parents. They’re back together, by the way, so forgive me for my melodramatic tendencies when discussing the matter. I’m actually one of the more stable ones in my family, but that could probably constitute a whole other series of posts.

Jesus is the reason for the season – the phrase makes me cringe, but it is something to remember, especially in the last day’s push to get everything done and ready for December 25. So while Dad decided to lounge around here at home, Mom and I got pretty and headed off to church for the evening service. It’s normally a candlelight service, lasting about 30 minutes, at 11PM. There was some sort of scheduling conflict this evening though, so we met at 6 instead. It was dark, and I’m exhausted from the moving and general business, so 6=11 to me lately.

Mom and I arrived early and snuck in through a side door, grabbing our bulletins and candles on our way to our pew. My family normally sits on the left side of the sanctuary, about ¾ of the way back. So I headed in that general direction, and started reading about who had donated the poinsettias.

They were gorgeous, I thought – strikingly vibrant against the red brick backdrop of the high church walls. The pots were crowded together, a reminder of loved ones absent and present, festive and bright, a constant of the holiday season. I didn’t care for the insert though, printed on the top half of a sheet of bright pink paper. I would have done it on cream paper, and used larger text in a different font, centered vertically and horizontally, I decided. Lately, I’m very into how words appear in print. It doesn’t bother me too much online, but if you’re going to go to the trouble to make something appear on paper, why not do it right?

That should have provided a clue to my mood, which was fussy and heading into judgmental and critical. Then I saw the band warming up – checking the microphones (one gentleman said “check” 9 times in a row – I counted. Excessive.), tuning up (You’re not quite there yet, guitar guy.) and generally doing their best to attract attention. So involved with thinking about how I would have organized the service, I didn’t notice the incoming congregants.

Mom leaned over and whispered – “we’re the only people on this side of the church.” And looking over, I noticed the right side was rapidly reaching capacity while we were, in fact, the only 2 people on the left.

“They’ll have to come over here soon,” I replied quietly. “They’re almost out of room over there.”

Mom had already scoped out 2 seats though. “If we went up 2 rows, there are some seats in the middle of that pew.” She informed me, trying not to smile, tilting her head in the direction of the right side of the church.

I giggled with her, and we looked around together, both of us pleased when a woman sat on our side, about 5 rows up. Satisfied, I returned to my bulletin. They were alternating verses with carols in the sing-along fashion I was used to with some basic contemporary variations – the “praise team” would perform certain songs, and would add a skit near the middle. Now, I’m not crazy about the performances or skits, but it’s Christmas, so I’ll tolerate it, I decided.

My musings were disturbed when Mom gasped. I looked over to see her watching the woman a few rows up, our only left-sided friend, abandon us for a seat on the right side. At that point, though I knew there was no reason for everyone to sit on the right, I started to look around to make sure there wasn’t something I’d missed. It was too warm in the church, so they couldn’t all be huddled for warmth. They can’t all know each other – they’re not talking, and I recognize people who normally attend the traditional service in favor of the contemporary one. Perhaps they all want to be on the side with the band? Or maybe they think Jesus loves that side more? Does Santa only visit those who are seated on the right side of the church?

We eventually had 11 or 12 people on our side, while there was hardly room to breathe on the other side of the church. Mom and I giggled about it for a long time. And we should have moved – there’s safety in numbers.

The service started late, which again, I don’t like. Scrupulously organized, if I plan an event, it will run on time. Since I’d been busy all day, I was running at full mental speed. I wanted to get things going, and the continued checking and tuning and talking of the band started to grate on my nerves. Don’t glare! I lectured myself – it’s Christmas. We finally got started, and right away, the band started into a song when it was time for us to hear a Bible reading from Luke.

You can only pull off the “pretend this was the way things were supposed to go, and nobody will notice we screwed up” trick if people don’t have printed version of the order in which the service should proceed. Other things that bothered me:

Cool Band Leader asked if people wanted to sit or stand to sing – there will always be those who’d rather sit and those who’d rather stand. I personally don’t care. But that’s why you have someone decide beforehand. Then you put a nice little cross by certain hymns, and we all know we’re supposed to be on our feet. Otherwise, we sit. So there was this awkward little pause when every song started as we all looked around to see if we were going to stand or not. It wasn’t a big deal, but it disturbed my focus.

I grew up in this church, and I adore the organ. It’s just how some hymns are meant to sound. And having never attended a contemporary service there, I wasn’t used to hearing amplified guitar, flute and drums. It didn’t work for me. It also didn’t work for me when Cool Band Leader decided to get all showy with the music. So people would start singing at different times during his lengthy intro, get confused when he started to jam a little between verses, and stop singing and look around, befuddled, when he’d perform the verses out of order. At one point, I wanted nothing more than to see the guy running the overhead slides to put a “what the %$#@&?!” sign up because they lyrics matched the band only about 60% of the time.

If you’re going to provide lyrics on a screen up front, I guess that’s fine. And if you want to use some sort of song-relevant picture as a background, that’s great too. But you might not want to pick a photo of a cross that’s very dark on one side, and bright white on the other. Then, when you use white letters to print your lyrics, people can only read the ones located on the dark background. This leads to an unfortunate sound-silence-sound-silence cycle as we can read-not read-read-not read your screen. It also makes me laugh until I can’t read any of your lyrics at all, defeating the purpose of the song.

If you decide you’re going to put the program back in order again, just have someone decide to do it – there’s no need for a discussion with every member of the band, the pastor, and the guy in the front row. Seriously.

If you have children come up to participate in part of the program, use a microphone. I thought it was fine that you were just talking to them, but the little old lady who kept yelling “what?” and “we can’t hear!” disagreed.

Then if the children are too shy to read the huge paper you take out of the manger, just read it for them. Don’t wait a full minute, asking each of them to come up, then asking groups, the finally coaxing everyone on the steps. Then trying to sound out the words. And I heard 2 girls read it, and I was sitting near the back, but neither “actor” acknowledged them. Of course, I had 2 people between me and the front of the stage, so sound traveled pretty well. Those people packed into the right side of the church probably missed it.

If you’re Cool Band Leader, don’t make a joke at the children’s expense on needing a literacy program in Sunday School so that they can read a simple paper. It isn’t true, isn’t funny, and really serves to make you look like a jackass to the children, their parents, their grandparents, and a young lady in the back who was trying not to glare at you before, but when you told said joke, decided to make sure you know she thinks you’re an idiot each time you make eye contact (which is a lot, since there are few people sitting in front of her).

So within all these petty complaints and annoyances, you might think I didn’t get anything valuable out of church service this evening. But I’ll remind you that I’m quite educated, and therefore able to weed through useless and irritating distractions, and hone in on the take-home message. I’ve been through some classes with professors I don’t like, but still try to gain some grasp of the concept they’re trying to teach. So what’d I learn today?

The Bible stories must focus on how other people reacted to Jesus’ birth. He was obviously a baby, so he wasn’t trying to teach yet. So we talk about Mary and Joseph, the wise men, the shepherds, the angel. Sing songs, read verses, and try to imagine our own reactions when faced with someone so awesomely miraculous. They don’t know what Jesus is capable of, have no proof that His teachings will be so very important. But they celebrate the possibilities, I think. The power of what God could do here on Earth – the lives He could touch, the gifts He might eventually give to us.

We had 2 little ones at my parents’ this evening. My niece, and a cousin’s baby. We’ll see the third little one tomorrow at dinner – he was napping tonight. Looking at them, it’s easy to play games and try to make life easier. Offer snacks and diaper changes when they’re fussy, teach them how far to tip the sippy cup to get the drink to come out at the right speed, watch them play with the Fisher Price balls that go in the little jungle spinning toy or the bubble gum dispenser-type toy. But to consider the possibilities that exist for these 2 girls is kind of amazing. So I like thinking of Christmas that way – the beginning of an incredibly productive, yet painful journey. One that took incredible courage, strength and faith.

The other big moment for me was during the candlelit version of Silent Night. I stared down at the flame on the tip of my white candle. I’d made sure the wick was far enough out of its protective plastic cup so it could be lit as the pastor made his way down the aisle. Then I leaned over to lit Mom’s. I watched the flickering light, looked around at the others as we sang in the darkened sanctuary, then returned my gaze to my own candle.

Spread light into the world, I thought. Love other people, but provide an honest portrayal of who you are – your weaknesses, minor irritations, and major pet peeves. I think we all deal with these traits for a reason – there’s a lesson God wants to teach us from all of this, and I might be a little more energized and strengthed now if I’d been more focused on Him than on the list of things with which I was not impressed. For some reason though, it's important for me to figure work past those things. I notice them, so maybe I'm supposed to note certain minor instances. Or maybe I'm meant to understand something else.

But starting at that tiny flame, even as the wax found a way through a tiny hole in my cup and onto my fingers, I was filled with hope and peace. Though Christ suffered, He’s fine now. There are still infinite possibilities for Him, as there are for us. Just as there’s darkness – exhaustion, irritation, and too much work – there’s light.

I drew my candle deep into the plastic cup to protect it. I didn’t want it to burn out – it was so beautiful and I wanted to watch it for as long as I could. A stray breeze or air from a heating vent could extinguish this tiny representation of hope and peace for me, and I would do all in my power to keep it safe and free from harm. So I stood still and watched it, huddled carefully around it. Looking away from it for just a moment, I noticed the pastor. He had returned to the front of the church after lighting candles. The advent circle was complete – we’d prepared and waited and the time for celebration was near – the church was alight with tiny flames. But when the song was over, he walked briskly down the aisle toward the lobby. He held his candle in front of him, not worried it would blow out, certain of its strength and ability to withstand his motion, stray breezes and a chance sneeze by a worshipper.

Moved, I slowly pushed my candle up and through the plastic cup. I wanted to be brave too. To celebrate the birth of my Lord, to acknowledge that there was a chance things could go wrong in my own life – that some opportunities would bring pain rather than success – and face the future and all its possibilities with confidence. Walk smoothly and briskly with my candle in front of me, unconcerned with the chance that the flame could be blown out. I said a prayer when the song ended – asking for His blessing on everyone inside and outside that church – and carefully blew out my candle before laying it on the tray by the door.

Thank you, I thought as we headed toward the exit. I appreciate so very many things you’ve given me, but the ability to head You speak, if only for a moment through a fleeting thought as I watch a candle burn, and despite my poor attitude during the service, humbles me.

Merry Christmas.