Preached at Beckley Presbyterian Church

on Christmas Eve, 2004

 

Every year brings its share of woes and troubles.  This past year the nation survived another election but continues to be entangled in conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq.  Regardless of your feelings on the rights and wrongs of war, the figures are that in Iraq over 1300 US soldiers, 150 of other nation’s forces and at a rough estimate over 14,000 Iraqis, amongst them many civilians including children under twelve years of age, have lost their lives.  A considerably higher number than that have been severely injured and traumatized.

 

Elsewhere in the Middle East conflict is the main order of the Day.  We some times sing the carol, “O little Town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie.”  We forget that Bethlehem at that first Christmas was anything but still - occupied by Rome, in turmoil because of a census, a place where zealots recruited those sympathetic to their cause, and a thousand plots and plans that were dreamed and schemed behind closed doors.

 

Such darkness and turmoil greeted the family of Mary and Joseph, (and her being heavy with child), as they arrived in town.  They were far from home and found no place to accommodate them excepting a barren stable.  No room.

 

Now there’s an image to conjure with - No Room!  Christmas is the time that speaks of the birth of hope when all seems lost, of light that shines on in the darkness.  It begs the question, “As we draw near to the end of a violent and contentious year, have we room for the things of God’s kingdom?”

 

Have negative events in our lives drawn us nearer to God, or have they removed God further from our sight?  Have we fallen back onto our own resources and retreated in turtle-like fashion to our protective shells?  Have events around our lives this past year caused us to push the things of the Spirit more to the periphery than to the center?

 

Or have we made the adjustments, taken the time, and sought for a genuine experience of God.  Have we tried all the more diligently in the face of these troubled times to find a touching place for God’s Kingdom in our lives?

 

On the table is bread and wine.  Symbols.  Symbols that remind us that we still have to make room – we still have to find time to sit at a table, and we still have the opportunity for love to be born in our hearts and expressed through our lives.

 

Where is God when violence disrupts our lives?

 

The bread and wine suggest ‘At the Cross’.  Born as one of us, Christ entered into deeper suffering than any of us that we might know – however hopeless, however bleak, however dark the situation may be – that hope can come, that joy comes in the morning, that light shines in the darkness, and that the darkness can not extinguish the powerful awesome love of God.

 

So you are invited to share in bread and wine and to pray that a rebirth of love may ignite your soul this holy night.  As we share in these common gifts they speak to us of uncommon love.  As we digest these simple symbols of faith, our lives can be nourished by the Holy Spirit of God.

 

Having refreshed our souls, then we can share the light.  Pass it on.  Spread it around.  May the flame we share not only be from the candles but from one that burns in our hearts.  Truly this is a time for declaring that hope, joy, peace, and love can be born into the darkest of situations through the light Christ has shone into our lives.

 

Let us share in bread and wine and rekindle the flame of God’s love in our hearts.

 

Rev. Adrian J. Pratt