Christmas Day Devotional:

By Rev. Tyler D. Brinks, Lake Fellow in Parish Ministry

Christmas is here. Our candles of Advent lit our way to the
manger and guided us to grace and truth.

They burn brighter together: candles of hope where despair
keeps watch, candles of peace for tempest-tossed days,
candles of joy despite all the sadness, candles of love to
inspire our living, the candle of Christ that burns all year long.

Our candles shone in the darkness, a light onto our path
as we kept watch past midnight. Our ancestor Moses once
found a bush aflame. He stood on holy ground. God spoke
to the bush, “Let there be light,” and there was light.

Moments ago angels appeared in a light and brought
us good news of great joy for all. They said to follow the
light before us, a shining star, where we’ll find Emmanuel,
God-With-Us. Shouldn’t we go and see? We should, we
are! Hurrying to Bethlehem. We have our candles, all five;
the star is leading, but we brought light for the road. Lord
knows the sheep can’t see without them.

God-With-Us, it’s hard to imagine. The Lord, the creator of
sky and sheep, has come to us—in the form of a babe? — in
a manger, wrapped in swaddling cloths. How odd. Yet how
oddly calming. The rage of kings grows old; I’d like to see
a prince of peace. Don’t we grow weary from battle and
bluster? Hearing the angels’ praise, I felt a thrill—something
leapt inside me—a thrill of hope.

We all did. A lightness, a stillness we’ve longed for. I think it
was peace, as the angel said. “On earth peace among those
whom he favors.”

There’s the stable! Let the flock roam, save one. We should
bring a gift. What good do we have besides a lamb to
give, one day, a blanket’s wool? We’ll offer what we can; he
shall not want.

We’re here. God above, we’re here below, at your feet, amid
your light. We must come inside and look at this great sight.

Ma’am, sir, we’re sorry to intrude. We were told to come,
tonight, here, to holy ground.

They smiled.

A crowd was already there. A boy near seven, clinging to
his mother. An aged man, a cane in hand. Three men in
technicolor robes, unbothered by their silk browning on the
stable floor. They looked to us with welcome — not surprised,
it seemed, to see us.

“Merry Christmas,” the babe’s mother said, “this day was
born to me, for us, a savior, the Christ.”

“Glory to God!” we said, “We had hoped, with all our hearts,
for what the angels have made known!”

The young boy beamed, his mother wept, the elder lifted his
hands towards heaven. Not even the wise men hid their joy.
All were amazed.

“This is our son,” the father said, “Jesus.”

In flesh and blood, swaddled tight, here shines the Light, the
light of all, Jesus.

Praise God! We declare to you the glory we’ve seen by the
Light: Christmas is here. The Christ has come.