December 18, 2014

 

Dear MLEPC Members and Friends:

 

I still can remember clearly my first Christmas Eve after coming to faith in 1973. I was fifteen years old and living east of Pittsburgh in Monroeville. Because no one else in my family was attending church at the time, I had started to hitch a ride every Sunday morning with some neighbors up the street to St. Martin's Episcopal Church. If you've ever driven out the Parkway East, just before coming to the second Monroeville exit perhaps you've seen the church overlooking the highway with the sign arching across it reading "Jesus Is Alive." Back in those days during Advent and Christmas, St. Martin's changed the wording to read, "Peace on Earth."

 

That was my church home, and as a new Christian I was eager to experience Christmas Eve for the first time with my soul filled with gratefulness to God for sending His Son into this world as my Savior. The evening did not disappoint. Back in those days, St. Martin's was a dynamic congregation that packed out for Christmas Eve service. My neighbors always arrived early to worship, since they were much involved in leadership. That night was no exception. A heavy snow had started late in the afternoon and blanketed the parking lot despite the vain efforts of the snow plow to clear it. Nevertheless, the cars came and came and came until the lot was filled, and attendants with flashlights waved vehicles onto the snow covered grass at the back of the property.

 

As time grew near to begin, the sanctuary was full. It was beautifully adorned with candles, garlands, and other greens creating a mood of majestic expectation. I volunteered to help fetch and set up chairs outside the sanctuary doors into the narthex, down the narthex steps, all the way to the outside entrance. It seemed each seat was taken nearly as quickly as it was set in place. The standing room only crowd only served to heighten the sense of awe concerning this great event: somehow, someplace far away, God entered into our world in a stable and was placed in a manger. And somehow, someway, that same God had come into my life eight months earlier.

 

At 10:30 sharp, the thirty person choir began to sing, with a full bell choir in support. Growing up in America in the 1960s, everyone knew the great carols of Christmas. We sang them in the public school. And so I recognized the tunes and words, yet they were presented with a passion and grandeur that took flight far above music class sing-along sessions. For thirty minutes, thirty voices prepared our hearts for the 11:00 Christmas Eve Candle Light Service with Holy Communion.

 

When worship began, we in the congregation then joined the choir in singing carols with awe-filled voices. Then the pastor, Father Stockhowe, preached the Christmas Eve message. I'd like to boast that I remember the details, but all I recall is that it was a simple appeal for us to entrust our lives to the One born long ago. We then were invited forward to receive the Eucharist. We waited in the aisles, moving slowly forward one step at a time in prayerful preparation. Finally, spots at the communion railing opened where one-by-one we took our places on bended knee to receive the sacrament. The first deacon came by and pressed the bread in my hand saying, "Christ is the gift of God given for you." He was then followed by a pastor who lifted the cup to my lips saying, "Tonight, Christ is born for you."

 

The service came to its climax and conclusion as the organist slowly and quietly introduced "Silent Night, Holy Night" while candle touched candle with the growing glow of light throughout the sanctuary. Indeed, all was calm and all was bright as we raised candles on high for the final verse--"Jesus, Lord at Thy birth; Jesus, Lord at Thy birth." Father Stockhowe closed with a charge and a blessing and well-wishes for a Merry Christmas.

 

As we slowly filed out of the sanctuary, down the steps and out the church doors, the snow had stopped, leaving a thin fleece of pure white covering the cars. It was Christmas morning, my first Christmas morning, knowing that Jesus was born to raise this son of earth, born to give me second birth.

 

That was forty-one Christmas Eve's ago. This coming Wednesday night, my forty-second will arrive, here at Mt. Lebanon Evangelical Presbyterian Church. To be sure, it will be different from that first special evening, but I look forward to it with the same sense of anticipation. For the story of the Son of God being born to a Daughter of Man--this great history and mystery fused into that One Solitary Life--remains the driving force of my life. I hope it does for your life, too.

 

See you on Christmas Eve,

 

Pastor Tim

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