Some Christmas Eve thoughts for 2005

Tonight our church had a Candlelight Service. It remains one of my favorite services. Many years ago, we used to have only one Candlelight Service, but now our church has two during Advent, the second one being on Christmas Eve. Due to the fact that all of our services are broadcast on local TV, there are time constraints which require some changes to how things were done "back in the day." As an aside, while I do not like some of the changes, when compared to the effect of the broadcasts on reaching out to people, my complaints seem very minor (there is a subject for another time). Anyway, although I enjoy both Candlelight Services now, we used to do the service a bit differently in my youth, as I will explain.

I have had several "religious experiences" in our church. One of them occurred at the Candlelight Service when I was a freshman in high school. Our sanctuary is large (see some pictures at the church's website). On this night, the pews were nearly full, and each person received a small candle upon entering the church. When it came time for the Candlelighting, all talking and all music ceased, and every light in the sanctuary was turned off. There was absolutely no light in the vast room--with the exception of one large candle in the chancel between the lectern and the pulpit. There was a stillness I had never experienced. From where I sat, the single light seemed barely visible, and yet it was the only thing visible in the vast room.

The senior pastor lit his candle, thereby doubling the amount of light in the vast room. He walked to the center aisle, lit the candle of the person in the front pew on the left of the aisle, then turned to light the candle of the person in the front pew on the right of the aisle, and once again the amount of light had been doubled. Those people passed the light to those next to them, who proceeded to do the same. Once the light reached the end of the pew, it went to the next pew, and the process was repeated. The light was received by one person, then shared with one new person until slowly, silently, peacefully the vast room, once almost completely dark, began to glow.

Then things that had been hidden in darkness were revealed in light, and by the time the last candle was lit, the vast room felt warm on that cold North Texas night. I looked around and saw faces bathed in candlelight, and I had the feeling that the warmth I sensed was not from the candles, but from the presence of the people sharing this experience.

I was moved in ways that I could not express, and, to this day, I think that in some ways any attempt at explanation, while accurate, is nonetheless incomplete. Still, as a 15-year old, I was able to correlate some of what I witnessed that night to what I came to believe in terms of my faith.

To me, that experience was a real-life illustration of God's love and what can and should be done with it in this existence. The single candle--almost swallowed up by the darkness and seemingly so fragile--was nonetheless present and steadfast. From that one small source, the light became stronger, and eventually all darkness was dispelled. And that happened through the actions of the people present in that sanctuary on that night. It did not happen through words. It did not happen through mere thought. It happened because one person took the steps necessary to share it with one other person, and then another, and then another.

Jesus, whose birth we celebrate tonight, came into this world at night, during darkness. His arrival was signaled by one star in the dark sky. And yet from this fragile beginning as a helpless infant in the dark, Jesus eventually spread God's love to everyone he contacted, and that love spread from there. Jesus did this through His life. He did not just "talk the talk." He lived it. He absolutely practiced what he preached. And often he preached through His actions. Moreover, He was humble. Did Jesus ever tell people that He was great? Did He ever tell people to worship Him? The answer to both questions is "no." It was by simple means that Jesus showed all of us the Light of God's love and how to spread that love.

The vulnerability of a single candle flame provides another lesson for this existence. Just as care is required to keep a single small flame from being extinguished, care is required to keep the flame of God's love burning in each of us. We each share the responsibility for that in our own lives. And yet, there are times that we need help. There are times when we need someone else to share his or her flame with us, and there are times that each of us needs to share our flame with others. It is my belief that God's love sometimes seems like that small single flame, but it was, is, and always will be present. We, however, must take steps to access and spread that eternal flame, both for ourselves and for others.

It is on this night--the night that Jesus came into this world in darkness in the most vulnerable form humans have--that these lessons are for me strongly, yet peacefully, relived.

Merry Christmas.