Something about Christmas puts me on spiritual notice. I suppose if God can show up in a stable, there's no telling where the sacred might show up…. a family meal, a hospital room, a child's laugh, a walk around the block. Who knows, God might even show up in church! Most often, God shows up when I'm not really looking, as if to keep me guessing, and I only catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
Truth be told, I sort of expect God to show up in church on Christmas Eve. The carols, scripture readings, a piece from Handel's Messiah (thank you, choir), and a highly artistic rendition of Little Drummer Boy (thank you, worship team) seem to increase the likelihood. Yet, once again, God showed up in the most surprising way.
This time it was through the angel ornaments, a new tradition for our Christmas Eve services. Unbeknownst to most in the congregation, small groups of friends had been gathering for months to craft exquiste handmade angel ornaments (fine satin and lace, hand-cut and sewn) to be given to all in attendance on Christmas Eve. These 'angel makers" met quietly, worked diligently, and prayed faithfully that their gift would bring healing and hope, not only to their lives (many of whom had suffered loss recently) but to all who attended our Christmas Eve services.
We sweated the details of how this would work out: counting angels, sizing baskets, sleeving each angel in a protective sheath, timing music, and carefully mapping an "angel ornament" distribution plan. In worship, we introduced the angels by asking everyone to take "one ornament per family, however you define family" and sent the ushers down the aisles armed with baskets overflowing with angels. Grace prevailed and somehow it all worked with minimal chaos. Each family received an angel ornament. The ushers took up the offering and exited the sanctuary in their allotted time. We exhaled and a new tradition was born.
Then God -- who is able to do far more than we could ask or imagine -- started to show up in the most (extra) ordinary ways. After the service I was greeted at the door by two elementary school-aged sisters, each with an ornament. With tears in her eyes, their mother hugged me and whispered, "Their dad and I just separated, and they wanted one for his home as well. I hope that's ok." I wanted to say "No. It's not ok; it's beautiful and lovely, exactly what we want this church to be about." Imagine that, God using the church to help children build a bridge between two homes saddened by loss.
A few moments later an elderly woman exited with her daughter in-law and grandchildren. Her son was absent due to an array of high-consequence decisions. She held the angel tightly and said, "I'm putting this on my bedside table to remember the promise of good news. God knows could use some right now."
Then she reached out her hand to her granddaughter, steadied herself, and walked arm in arm toward a Christmas Eve dinner very different than any of them expected.
Another woman let me know she hadn't set foot in a church since her husband died. But she'd heard that others who experienced loss like hers had decided to honor their loved ones by making and giving angels, and she wanted an angel to help her journey toward healing.
The stories have continued almost every day since, convincing me that God showed up on Christmas eve pretty much the same way God shows up every time, not in the fanfare of trumpets and choirs, nor in the well-spoken word or careful choreography of worship, but through the humble, anonymous, prayer soaked offering of servants who hoped their efforts would serve God's purposes in ways beyond anything they could ask or imagine.
