Last night our family joined our neighbors family to go to a Christmas Eve service at their church. It isn't far from our house and is a small church I've passed by many times on the way home from work. (Trinity Christian for any locals who may want to know.) We followed the Wises - funny, I just got that, three Wise women and one Wise man - to hear the story of the Christ child being born in a manger. A story I have heard dozens of times. We walked into the church and I thought "well this is different." There are no pews for people, only padded upholstered stacking chairs that you might find in an office building to be used in multi-purpose room. The sanctuary was lined along the outer walls with cast-off sofas and chairs which would have been more at home in someones' family room. The most striking difference in this sanctuary was the dais wasn't used for a pulpit and choir but instead had several round table and chairs with more sofas and chairs lining it.
What would normally be thought of as the dais was in the middle of one wall of the sanctuary - not raised above everyone, but on the same level with only a simple Cross attached to the wall between two sets of stained glass windows. The choir was actually a band of four: one man playing guitar and operating as the lead singer, a woman accompanying him while playing the accordion, one man was playing the bongos (which I've also never seen done) and the fourth man was playing the mandolin. We had just arrived as they were starting the evenings singing. Simple. Unadorned. Four instruments and hundreds of voices old and young singing along to "Joy to the World" followed by "Hark the Herald Angel Sing," my heart remembering the words without having to look at the program.
The pastor spoke then of the often told Christmas story and said to us that we have heard the story so many times we probably don't even hear the words anymore. We sing the same songs so much that we don't hear their meaning anymore. And he asked us to really listen this time to hear the words that were being said, to open up to what the story really is about... the gift of love. For god so loved us that he sacrificed his only son to save us.
We ended the services with "Silent Night" accompanied by the band as people held candles and passed the light around. The lights of the sanctuary were dimmed as the light that was passed grew stronger one flicker of flame at a time. At the end it was only the light of the candles (glow sticks for the little ones) and the voices of people singing again the first verse:
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