Our First Christmas as a church was homey.  Of course, at that time of year there was little light in the evening, and the lights on the outside of the building were not working.  Add to that there was a freezing rain in the late afternoon and evening.  I ran about town rounding up borrowed outdoor worklights…the kind you can buy at Menards.  So, I sprinkled enough ice melt to cause the EPA to come after me, and then set up lights outside in the parking lot so that people could make it inside without running into a tree.

Problem: outside lights take a lot of power.

Solution: run to the circuit breaker every 10 minutes.

Not too many people showed up…maybe 20.  But it was super.  I had invited people to bring something that was meaningful to them to share.  One person brought a poem.  One person brought a Dolly Parton/Kenny Rogers song to listen to.  Alex and I sang an Andrew Peterson song that used the first chapter of Matthew as the lyrics (the begats).

We heard the story, sang the songs, lit the candles, and enjoyed each others’ company.  There was something perfect about the simplicity of the building, the music, the lights, the makeshift of the outside lights.  It brought home a reality of the nativity in its earthiness, in it’s poorness, in its makeshift MacGyverness.  Jesus’ birth was celebrated in a way I’ve never celebrated it before, and it seemed perfect to me.  Everyone brought a gift and received a gift.

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