Day Twenty-Seven
Christmas Eve
Rev. Beth J. Costlow
St. John's Evangelical Lutheran Church
Columbia, Pennsylvania
Isaiah 9.2-7
Psalm 96
Titus 2.11-14
Luke 2.1-14 [15-20]
When we gather for worship this day, we will be greeted by cheerful, happy people. We will hear the joyful proclamation of the Savior’s birth. And we will sing triumphant hymns that celebrate the sacred event of the Lord’s incarnation. There is, of course, good—better than good—reason for the joy-filled celebrations of this holy day.
Many of us, though, find that the darkness that exists in our lives increases even as the brightness of the Lord’s incarnation is celebrated. It seems that everyone around us is filled with joy, but we are surrounded by shadows.
I vividly recall my first Christmas after my father’s death. A year later, we celebrated the same holiday for the first time after my stepfather’s death. Even now, more than a decade after both men have entered the Church Triumphant, their absences dim the joy of my family’s celebration. There is a great deal of brokenness in our world, and it can darken even the brightest joy. Death is not the only thing that shadows joyful celebrations.
When we light the candles during my congregation’s Christmas Eve worship service, I am struck by how little light it takes to illumine the darkness. It has been my practice to darken the sanctuary so that the only light source is the Christ candle. For a few moments, that one, small flame is the only source of light. On Good Friday, that same candle is the only light shining as we depart the sanctuary in darkness. It provides just enough light for us to navigate safely through the darkness as we leave worship.
And I am struck anew by this Truth: There is no darkness so deep that the light of Christ cannot overcome it. These words, from the prophet Isaiah, offer God’s promise to humanity, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined.” (Isaiah 9:2)
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