Friends in Christ,
Well, even though the church reminds us that we are not finished with the Christmas season yet (the Second—and last--Sunday of Christmas will be January 5th; the next day is the Day of the Epiphany), for all intents and purposes, Christmas will be “done” by the time you are reading this, and many of our Christmas decorations, Christmas CD’s and ugly Christmas sweaters will go into hibernation until next year. And not only that, but a new year will have begun as well—a new decade, mind you. Where did the last ten years go??
As much as I enjoy all the “extras” stuffed into my schedule around the holidays, I also welcome the slower pace of the Epiphany season and the opportunity to catch my breath a bit and ponder the ongoing mystery of Word-Made-Flesh and the Light That No Darkness Can Ever Overcome; yet, truth be told, I often find myself a bit…blue as we collectively flip the pages of our calendars into a new year.
And I know I am not the only one in this regard; this month can be particularly hard on the mental health of lots of folks, especially those of us who struggle with things like depression, anxiety, or episodic bouts of melancholy, all of which are exacerbated by the lack of light in our days and the, ahem, unrelenting cold. Pass the Vitamin D, please, crank up the heat, and FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE keep those shades open.
Also weighing in (pun intended) on the burdens some of us may be carrying, hoisting and lugging into the new year is the reality that most of us once again probably overindulged a time or two with all the plates of goodies that magically appear this time of year and demand that we be their willing servants. Sure, I guess I can have just seventy-five more of those delicious almond-bark-drenched pretzels. Good heavens, those things are nummy. And please pass that entire tray of cookies with the Hershey’s Kisses in the middle and fetch me a gallon of milk. And keep the Pepto-Bismol handy.
So, whether you are melancholy or mirthful right about now; sad or jolly; frustrated or motivated; up or down; rested or tired, be of good cheer people of God: Christmas may be over (or at least close to over) but the Lord is still near. And we are still held in the sturdy grip of grace. From the sweet shimmering hymn, “The Bells of Christmas”: The bells of Christmas chime once more; the heavenly guest is at the door. He comes to earthly dwellings still, with new year gifts of peace, good will.
On a damp, cool Thursday this past September, I was with our cross country kids at a meet in Jamestown. I had a lot on the pastoral plate that week (a tragic death at the top of the list) and I was feeling pinched for time, so being gone for several hours was making me feel a bit…stressed, to say the least, since the funeral was in two days and I had much to prepare for before then.
But there I was, running around like a madman during both the boys and girls’ varsity races as I usually do, losing myself in my passion for cheering young runners on to do their best and trying to defy the reality that I’m not 25 anymore and a sprint or two or three or eight across a cross country course at my age means next-day moaning and groaning as I attempt to extract myself from my bed to begin the day. Ouch; I didn’t even realize I had a muscle there.
Now, I typically like to be at the one-mile marker in those races and give kids their one mile “split” times—how fast they are running the first mile of their (3.1 mile) race. Pace plays such a huge role in cross-country races, after all. But the course in Jamestown is in a recreation area and not situated on a golf course, so the one-mile marker is a major hike into a wooded area; in past years I have not made it to that marker but instead have just stayed outside of that dense labyrinth of trees. But, for some reason, I decided to throw all caution to the wind this time, breathlessly buzzing in there for both girls’ and boys’ races. I’m really really really really glad I did.
The boys ran after the girls that day and after my last boy skedaddled past the one-mile marker in his race, that was my cue to run back out of the wooded area and find other positions from which to cheer the kids on. I was pretty gassed by then, so I was down to a slow jog when I ran by two teenage girls who were walking back out into the open.
“Make way for a tired old guy,” I yelled out, to which one of the girls responded sweetly by cheering, “You got this, coach! Way to go!” I was so taken aback—in a good way--by that comment that I turned around and said, “Wow, thanks! That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me today!” And then, as if that cheer wasn’t sweet enough, the other girl added, “You’re welcome! We think coaches matter!”
Who says something like that?!?! A teenage girl? An angel? God? It was such a sweet, unexpected, fragrant bouquet of good news spoken and it once again reminded me of the simple, uncluttered truth you and I and every single human being walking this earth right now can cling to every minute of every day in every week of every year. The truth that was born at Christmas and now grabs hold of heavy, weary, broken hearts and makes them rise up as if on wings….
We are noticed, we are loved, we are cherished, we are held, and most of all we matter. We matter to the one who once spun galaxies and stars, and who one wild and head-spinning day spun flesh out of mystery’s tender heart and provided us an excuse to break fire codes across the world one night of the year and sing “Silent Night.” This is the same one who would eventually hang on a splintered cross that would be used to build a bridge of hope between our broken world and God’s hidden heart, so that nothing, absolutely nothing would separate us from him.
People of God, the bells of Christmas are chiming once more and the heavenly guest from that last paragraph is again at the doors of our hearts, with gifts of peace, good will, and most of all, love. You matter to me, the heavenly guest says, You matter to me more than you will ever know. Cling ferociously to that gorgeous good news in this brand-new decade and let it have the last word: Always.
Peace in Christ, and a blessed New Year to you all!
Pastor Phil
(As posted in January 2020 Newsletter)
Well, even though the church reminds us that we are not finished with the Christmas season yet (the Second—and last--Sunday of Christmas will be January 5th; the next day is the Day of the Epiphany), for all intents and purposes, Christmas will be “done” by the time you are reading this, and many of our Christmas decorations, Christmas CD’s and ugly Christmas sweaters will go into hibernation until next year. And not only that, but a new year will have begun as well—a new decade, mind you. Where did the last ten years go??
As much as I enjoy all the “extras” stuffed into my schedule around the holidays, I also welcome the slower pace of the Epiphany season and the opportunity to catch my breath a bit and ponder the ongoing mystery of Word-Made-Flesh and the Light That No Darkness Can Ever Overcome; yet, truth be told, I often find myself a bit…blue as we collectively flip the pages of our calendars into a new year.
And I know I am not the only one in this regard; this month can be particularly hard on the mental health of lots of folks, especially those of us who struggle with things like depression, anxiety, or episodic bouts of melancholy, all of which are exacerbated by the lack of light in our days and the, ahem, unrelenting cold. Pass the Vitamin D, please, crank up the heat, and FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE keep those shades open.
Also weighing in (pun intended) on the burdens some of us may be carrying, hoisting and lugging into the new year is the reality that most of us once again probably overindulged a time or two with all the plates of goodies that magically appear this time of year and demand that we be their willing servants. Sure, I guess I can have just seventy-five more of those delicious almond-bark-drenched pretzels. Good heavens, those things are nummy. And please pass that entire tray of cookies with the Hershey’s Kisses in the middle and fetch me a gallon of milk. And keep the Pepto-Bismol handy.
So, whether you are melancholy or mirthful right about now; sad or jolly; frustrated or motivated; up or down; rested or tired, be of good cheer people of God: Christmas may be over (or at least close to over) but the Lord is still near. And we are still held in the sturdy grip of grace. From the sweet shimmering hymn, “The Bells of Christmas”: The bells of Christmas chime once more; the heavenly guest is at the door. He comes to earthly dwellings still, with new year gifts of peace, good will.
On a damp, cool Thursday this past September, I was with our cross country kids at a meet in Jamestown. I had a lot on the pastoral plate that week (a tragic death at the top of the list) and I was feeling pinched for time, so being gone for several hours was making me feel a bit…stressed, to say the least, since the funeral was in two days and I had much to prepare for before then.
But there I was, running around like a madman during both the boys and girls’ varsity races as I usually do, losing myself in my passion for cheering young runners on to do their best and trying to defy the reality that I’m not 25 anymore and a sprint or two or three or eight across a cross country course at my age means next-day moaning and groaning as I attempt to extract myself from my bed to begin the day. Ouch; I didn’t even realize I had a muscle there.
Now, I typically like to be at the one-mile marker in those races and give kids their one mile “split” times—how fast they are running the first mile of their (3.1 mile) race. Pace plays such a huge role in cross-country races, after all. But the course in Jamestown is in a recreation area and not situated on a golf course, so the one-mile marker is a major hike into a wooded area; in past years I have not made it to that marker but instead have just stayed outside of that dense labyrinth of trees. But, for some reason, I decided to throw all caution to the wind this time, breathlessly buzzing in there for both girls’ and boys’ races. I’m really really really really glad I did.
The boys ran after the girls that day and after my last boy skedaddled past the one-mile marker in his race, that was my cue to run back out of the wooded area and find other positions from which to cheer the kids on. I was pretty gassed by then, so I was down to a slow jog when I ran by two teenage girls who were walking back out into the open.
“Make way for a tired old guy,” I yelled out, to which one of the girls responded sweetly by cheering, “You got this, coach! Way to go!” I was so taken aback—in a good way--by that comment that I turned around and said, “Wow, thanks! That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me today!” And then, as if that cheer wasn’t sweet enough, the other girl added, “You’re welcome! We think coaches matter!”
Who says something like that?!?! A teenage girl? An angel? God? It was such a sweet, unexpected, fragrant bouquet of good news spoken and it once again reminded me of the simple, uncluttered truth you and I and every single human being walking this earth right now can cling to every minute of every day in every week of every year. The truth that was born at Christmas and now grabs hold of heavy, weary, broken hearts and makes them rise up as if on wings….
We are noticed, we are loved, we are cherished, we are held, and most of all we matter. We matter to the one who once spun galaxies and stars, and who one wild and head-spinning day spun flesh out of mystery’s tender heart and provided us an excuse to break fire codes across the world one night of the year and sing “Silent Night.” This is the same one who would eventually hang on a splintered cross that would be used to build a bridge of hope between our broken world and God’s hidden heart, so that nothing, absolutely nothing would separate us from him.
People of God, the bells of Christmas are chiming once more and the heavenly guest from that last paragraph is again at the doors of our hearts, with gifts of peace, good will, and most of all, love. You matter to me, the heavenly guest says, You matter to me more than you will ever know. Cling ferociously to that gorgeous good news in this brand-new decade and let it have the last word: Always.
Peace in Christ, and a blessed New Year to you all!
Pastor Phil
(As posted in January 2020 Newsletter)