This week is the best week to be a pastor. No doubt. We have worship galore. We have people generally happy, and although some people are pulling out their hair at all the details to be taken care of, we are all generally festive. Plus there's a lot of food. Like this little turkey.I love turkey. But we're having roast beast this year. The Grinch, himself will carve it.
I love all the trappings of Christmas. Presents. Carols. Trees. Elves. Sleighs and Reindeer. Tinsel. Lights. Mangers. Ornaments. (my least favorite part, actually) Food. Drink. More food. (Also, as climate change has pretty much made Omaha a southern state weather-wise, I find I like snow. At least one day a year.)
Perhaps the most fun I have is meeting all the family who no longer live around here, but come home for the Holidays, and visit our congregation on Christmas Eve. How proud are the parents or the children to introduce me to their family. How great to see people actually caring for one another!
And then there is this--always--one family comes to me and wants to know if someone else needs a little help. There is a look of real longing, of real need to help someone. Whether they have sacrificed their own comfort or not, this family (and there is always at least one), truly wants to make a difference somehow.
And seeing that, I remember why I wanted to be a pastor in the first place. To be part of a world where people help rather than criticize; where people put the best constructions possible on the words and actions of others; and where faith is seen as a companion for a journey rather than a bullseye on a target. I got into ministry because I wanted to celebrate Holy Communion on Christmas Eve. I stay in ministry because people make me proud to tell the story of Jesus Christ, his birth, death, and resurrection, so that the world can participate in the wonder of the Christmas light. Jesus Christ, the light of the world made flesh.May your tables be full, and your conversations be true.
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