Christmas greetings my sisters and brothers in Christ!

Where do you find hope? In this season, we light candles of love, peace, joy and hope. We seek comfort and inspiration in the story of Jesus' birth. And yet I know quite a few people who are having a hard time locating hope this year. There isn't all that much room for optimism about a lot of things right now - it's not at all clear that everything will be alright. But Hope comes from the certainty that the present reality can and will change, and at some point will change for the better. Hope comes from the sure and certain knowledge and experience of God's presence Incarnate among us. Hope emanates from the manger, from the bonds of love that bind us together as we gaze upon Emmanuel, a tiny baby, born again in our hearts.

I find hope in all of you - in the Churches and people of the Maine Conference, United Church of Christ. In all the faithfulness, creativity, love, peace-making, feeding of the hungry, clothing of those without, marching for justice, welcoming the stranger, caring for those who are ill or grieving, serving our communities and generally being a blessing - that goes on every day of the year here in Maine. We are making a difference. We are shining God's Love. We are being God's hands and feet here on earth. How could we not have Hope!

In this season, I offer you this prayer from the Iona community with its steady affirmation that we are not alone, that Christ has 'crept in beside" us and is still here to walk with us in these days, holding out a vision of a world filled with peace, justice, love and compassion.

May the light of Christmas give you hope, inspire your hearts and warm our spirits.

Blessings and Peace,

Deborah

When the world was dark

When the world was dark

and the city was quiet,

you came.

You crept in beside us.

And no one knew.

only the few

who dared believe

that God might do something different.

Will you do the same this Christmas, Lord?

Will you come into the darkness of tonight's world;

not the friendly darkness

as when sleep rescues us from tiredness,

but the fearful darkness,

in which people have stopped believing

that war will end

or that food will come

or that a government will change

or that the Church cares?

Will you come into that darkness

and do something different

to save your people from death and despair?

Will you come into the quietness of this country,

not the friendly quietness

as when lovers hold hands,

but the fearful silence when

the phone has not rung,

the letter has not come,

the friendly voice no longer speaks,

the doctor's face says it all?

Will you come into that darkness

and do something different,

not to distract, but to embrace your people?

And will you come into the dark corners

and the quiet places of our lives?

We ask this not because we are guilt-ridden

or want to be,

but because the fullness our lives long for

depends on us being as open and vulnerable to you

as you were to us,

when you come,

wearing no more than diapers,

and trusting human hands

to hold their maker.

Will you come into our lives,

if we open them to you

and do something different?

When the world was dark

and the city was quiet

you came.

You crept in beside us.

Do the same this Christmas, Lord.

Do the same this Christmas.

AMEN.

From

Cloth for the Cradle