Alice used to run the blood drives at a church I served with before. She ran them…religiously, oddly enough. They were always in the fellowship hall, which, one could argue, is where just as much ministry happens inside church building walls as any other room. She orchestrated them as if she was under the impression that life could be impacted for the better, as if lives could be saved; as if that should be part of standard church ministry operation, whether be physically, spiritually, mentally, or a combination of all the above.
As a year draws to a close, I often find it fascinating, as well as grueling and uplifting and gut-wrenching, to sift through some of the most profound work of photographers from the last 12 months. One is captured by Kevin Cooley (Redux) following a travesty that seems like a lifetime ago. On January 7, fires emerged in California, fanned by historic Santa Ana wind gusts in the Pacific Palisades and Altadena, killing 19 and thousands of others losing their homes. And yet, in this powerful image, we are reminded that new life can somehow rise from the ashes.
Trees tend to be the center of attention this time of year. They may not always be at the literal main focal point in whatever room they’re placed in with each home that celebrates Christmas, but they tend to garner their fair share of interest, to say the least. For those with the living forms, it takes a fair share of planning in finding just the right one and transporting it as well as getting it into the living room without unleashing seemingly millions of pine needles to cover the entire floor. Although, that would still be my preference, no matter the nuisance leading up to it, children have a way of altering Christmas tree plans, let alone life in general.
This Saturday at 5:30pm, we offer a Blue Christmas service. It breaks up our routine, a bit, to be sure. We try to join in the chorus of the “hap-happiest season of all,” as Andy Williams insisted. It is for some. Others, not so much. Yes, every once in a while, the church will reiterate its hospitality to the whole human spectrum of feelings, recognizing not everyone comes to worship with the most positive life vibes for whatever the reason might be. Sometimes various portions of our worship help, including times for healing with anointing of oil, or other ministry groups will fulfill that pivotal role for those struggling. But during this season of nights and emotions and memories charged with nostalgia all magnified to the extreme, perhaps the church needs to intentionally offer a time and space to bare our soul before God, in a sense.
The Advent wreath tends to get lost in the shuffle (although, we could say Advent as a whole gets lost in the shuffle), amidst everything else that happens in a weekend worship, let alone our minds tend to focus on what’s coming later in December as opposed to these four Sundays leading up to that big day. For many mainline Protestant and Roman Catholic faith communities, we do our prayer, we light the needed candles, we sing a song and keep on moving. And then, soon enough, that collection of candles amidst a circular greenery will get tucked away in some closet, never to be thought of again for another 11 months or so. It tends to get lost in the shuffle (although, we could say much of our spirituality gets lost in the chaotic day-to-day living shuffle).
