First, the graphic. Ornamental cinderblock that reminds me of home. My family’s 1960s house in suburban Southern California had the stuff all over the place, and it was meant to look modern. It still reminds me of that house where we lived.
I’ve been thinking about Christmas Eve, and will say more about it in Sunday’s sermon. Not so much the nativity account in Luke’s gospel, but the ways we remember and celebrate Christmas Eve in the church. This coming Tuesday may be my last time leading a Christmas Eve worship service. By rough count I think I may have attended nearly a hundred Christmas Eve services of various sorts and I have led or helped lead around 75 of those services. That’s a lot of Christmas Eve experience. I have an idea of who’s going to show up on Tuesday and what to expect from them.
I don’t remember much if anything about Christmas Eve, 1969 – fifty Christmas Eves ago, except that I am pretty sure I went to the worship service at our church with whichever of my brothers and sisters my parents could persuade or coerce to join them, and that I must have been more confused that Christmas Eve than I have been any Christmas Eve since. Continue reading