I don’t go to church very often, Lord.
I don’t go at all…well, I am here at Christmas.
I’m home then. I feel drawn to it.
I like the Christmas Eve service.
The coolness of the air,
the aroma of the candles,
the familiarity of gathering with strangers.
I feel like a kid again.
I know it’s common to make fun of people like me.
What can I say? I’ve drifted…
But something pulls me back
Are You speaking to me?
I connect with something in the sermon, sometimes,
but mostly it’s the music and the candles.
What is it about the candles?
Darkness and light.
Light and darkness.
I know about light and darkness. I live in both.
I’ve got some of both in me.
And yet there is an impulse,
a movement to be closer to the light.
And so the flame of a stranger touches mine
and I sing the chorus,
“Son of God, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from thy holy face…”
That is the light, the face, the life I seek,
and in this moment, I am touching it.
And then a voice reminds me,
in the echo of ancient words
that are always needed,
“the light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness did not overcome it.”
I am speaking to you, Lord,
but on this night, from every conceivable direction,
you are speaking to me.
And I am listening.