Isabel stood before the altar and picked up her Bible. While the choir sang the last few bars of music, she took a moment to scan the crowd—so many faces that were now familiar to her, so many encouraging smiles and warm gazes. She’d been here barely a month and felt as if she already knew so many of these people, each in a special way. She would be comfortable here, admired and respected, that was for sure. It wasn’t one of those churches where the minister toils away, trying to win the congregation over and not always succeeding.
As the choir sang the final verse of the hymn, a certain familiar smile caught her eye. Seated in the last row, dead center, she saw Max, with Jacob beside him. Max looked fresh-faced and excited, his eyes gleaming. As if he were watching a particularly interesting sporting match, with one of his favorite players in the starting lineup.
That would be me, she realized.
He was excited to see her this morning in her role as minister. They’d come to know each other in a different way, more of a student-teacher relationship. More as friends, she hoped.
His enthusiasm was touching. When she met his eye and gently smiled, she almost thought he was about to wave. At the last minute, he nudged his father with his elbow, and then Jacob met her gaze as well. He slowly nodded, as if acknowledging that she had somehow won their argument—or at least an important round, getting him and Max into church on Christmas Day.
Isabel smiled to herself and looked away. The choral voices were hitting a high note, a crescendo at the close of the hymn. A lovely blending of voices . . . and then it was utterly silent.
“Merry Christmas, one and all,” she began. “I want to welcome everyone to our service this morning, all the members of the congregation and all of our visitors, too. We’ll dispense with the usual announcements today, which are printed in your bulletin.
“Let us quiet and clear our minds and hearts right now as we join together for worship. As if each one of us has been touched by the fresh coat of snow last night, making everything bright and new. So that we can truly hear God’s word and celebrate the message and promise of the Christmas miracle.”
THE CHURCH THAT REGINA AND HER FAMILY ATTENDED BACK IN PENNSYLVANIA was a bit more conservative than this one. But Molly had persuaded her to bring the family here this morning, and Regina had to say that she had a good feeling. She felt it from the moment she had come through the doors. Everyone was so friendly and relaxed and welcoming. And she knew so many of the members, who were patients of Dr. Harding’s or just familiar now from town.
She liked the woman minister, though she had heard that everyone just loved Reverend Ben, the minister who was retiring. He was here, too, she noticed, sitting a few rows away with his wife and family. Molly and Matt had saved seats for Regina’s family, which was no small accomplishment. It was nice to sit with someone you knew the first time you came to a church. But Regina realized now that if her family had come in and sat anywhere, the odds were that she would have landed beside someone familiar.
Richard had not been that eager to attend, but he didn’t argue with her. She could tell he thought it was good for the children to be reminded that the holiday was about something more than gifts under the tree and good things to eat and school vacation.
Regina thought she would like to join a church again, maybe this one. Even if she and Richard parted, she would bring the children. It would be more important than ever if there was a divorce.
But this morning she was here to give thanks. She had so much to be thankful for, her heart felt ready to burst. She had asked God time and again to help her family, and her prayers had truly been answered. In the few weeks since they had arrived here and moved into the old house, they had begun to recover, financially and emotionally. Regina knew there was a long road ahead, and knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she could finally see a way out. She finally had hope again.
Only half-mindful of the prayers the minister was leading, Regina said her own, thanking God again for helping them and adding one for her marriage. Thank you for a wonderful Christmas morning. Please help us throughout the day to show one another love and respect. And for the future, Lord, please show me and Richard the right thing to do. Help us to do what’s best for our children and for ourselves. Please give us the strength and the kindness necessary, so that we don’t lash out and hurt each other anymore.
Richard touched her shoulder, a questioning look in his eyes. She thought for a moment he had read her thoughts, and she could feel herself blushing.
“Could you pass me that hymnal, Gina?” he asked quietly.
Gina nodded, returning from her solitary moment of prayer and handing it over to him. He took the book and opened it for Brian, who had been sharing with Madeline but now wanted his own.
Regina took her own hymnal and quickly found the page. Everyone had started singing and she hurried to catch up.
REVEREND BEN KNEW ALL THE VERSES TO “O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM” by heart. But he opened his hymnal anyway, just to blend in with the rest of the congregation. He was enjoying this service as a private citizen but in a way, was also feeling almost overwhelmed this morning with the realization that he’d lost his church.
An ordinary Sunday had been hard enough. But this was Christmas. And he was not standing at the front of the sanctuary, leading the worship and prayers, delivering a sermon. He was among the worshippers. There was a big difference between the two. One he’d never really stopped to consider all these long years, standing there, only ten yards or so away from where he now sat. But worlds apart, in another way.
A lifetime apart, he’d go so far as to say.
He swallowed hard, had to stop singing. His vision blurred a bit, and he took out a hanky and dabbed his eyes. Carolyn noticed and gave him a quizzical look. He shook his head, shaking off her concern. “I’m fine,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”
But he wasn’t okay. Not entirely. He was facing something squarely that he had only been dancing around all these long weeks. Something that had jumped up and nipped him last night, when he was talking to Isabel about her decision. He could see that now.
The congregation was about to call Isabel to be their new minister. God bless her and bless her decision in that matter. But whether she stepped in or not—and Ben did believe she would step in—the place he had left was going to be filled, one way or another. Sooner rather than later.
He had made his choice and life went on. No one was indispensable, no matter how people felt, no matter their loyalty. The church was more than one person. More than a mere minister, certainly. The church was the entire congregation, and they might miss him . . . but they didn’t need him to survive. Hadn’t he said exactly those words to Tucker a few weeks ago?
Oh, you sounded so humble and self-effacing, he chided himself. You struck just the right modest note. But you didn’t really believe that at the time, did you? You thought this place would actually fall down once you left the helm. You never thought anyone could come in and lead such a wonderful Christmas Day service, that’s for sure. Be honest now.
He nodded to himself just as the hymn was ending. Yes, it was true. He was not sure now if he should have retired after all. He felt one hundred and ten percent better, with more energy than he’d had in many years. He could have done wonders around here with all this fresh get-up-and-go. With his newfound gratitude and appreciation for merely being alive and cherishing every minute of every day. With the film washed from his eyes, he did see the world in a fresh, new way. He had an entirely new vision to share.
If only . . .
It was too late now. He’d made his choice and had to live with it. He only hoped that God, in His wisdom, would show him the right place to invest this newfound wellspring of energy and spirit if he couldn’t use it here any longer.
Reverend Isabel had already started the second reading, and Ben turned his full attention to her. He was interested to see which one she’d chosen, though he loved all of the verses about Christmas morning. From today�
��s lectionary, which were the choices of Scripture assigned to each Sunday and church holiday, Isabel had chosen a reading from Luke 2, verses 1–20. By the time Ben tuned in, she had almost come to the end.
“‘And it came to pass as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us . . . And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
“‘But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.’”
Isabel closed the Bible and lifted her head. “This is the word of the Lord. Let us hold it in our hearts and in our minds.” Then she set the Bible aside and looked out over the rows of expectant faces. Her sermon sat before her on neatly typed pages, though she never read it verbatim. She lightly straightened the sheets, just to ground herself, then took a deep breath and began.
“In this morning’s Scripture, we hear about the revelation of the shepherds, who were guarding their flocks and visited by an angel. The angel told them, ‘Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy.’ Your Savior is born, he’s waiting for you, and you’ll find him ‘wrapped in swaddling clothes.’
“We all know that there were others who received a sign, a special message from heaven, that the long-awaited miracle, the birth of their Savior, had come to pass. Those others were the three wise men, or the Magi, as they are often called.
“Of all the familiar figures depicted in the crèche scene, these three visitors are perhaps the most well-known and the most fascinating. But who were these men, and why is the story of their revelation and journey an important part of this most important story?” she continued. “Why is their story relevant to us, even to this day?”
Isabel paused. A few of her listeners shifted in their seats; bulletins rustled and babies squirmed and whined. She could hear her own racing heart, beating beneath her cassock, and her face felt suddenly flushed. She still wasn’t used to delivering a formal sermon, and knew it was an acquired skill.
Her gaze suddenly fell on Reverend Ben and his deeply interested expression and gentle smile, encouraging her to go on.
“There is not much known about these three men, and only one account in the Bible,” she continued. “We find it in the Gospel according to Matthew, who doesn’t even tell us specifically that there were three men, only that there were three gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh. In Matthew’s account, the visitors are called ‘wise men from the East’ who came to worship the Christ. ‘For we observed his star at its rising and have come to pay him homage,’ they said.
“But how did they even know to look for a sign? Where did they come from, and who were they really? While different traditions have different names for them, in Western Christian churches they have commonly been known as Melchior, Caspar or Gaspar, and Balthasar.
“The phrase ‘from the East’ has been interpreted by most scholars to mean that they were from Babylon. Matthew’s version states that the Magi found Jesus by following His star, which has become known as the Star of Bethlehem.”
Isabel knew that this was a lot of information and wondered if she was losing her audience. But when she gazed around the sanctuary, most seemed involved in the story.
“Many early Christian writers studied and wrote on this subject,” she told them. “But one work called The Revelation of the Magi, recently rediscovered by a contemporary Bible scholar, is said to be the firsthand testimony, written by the three wise men themselves. It describes in great detail their feelings and experiences upon sighting the star and their journey to Bethlehem.
“One can only imagine the difficulty of traveling in those days, even a short distance, much less undertaking a trip from one country to another. A biblical scholar at Duke University has worked this out, as well. The distance from Babylon—or Persia, as the area was also called—to Jerusalem was over five hundred miles. It’s estimated that it would have taken twenty to fifty days to make that trip, with the travelers covering ten to twenty miles a day, depending on the weather and terrain, and the number in the caravan.
“That great distance would encompass desert and rough, uninhabited terrain—dry, barren stretches, unbearably hot during the day and frigid at night. A journey across mountains and rivers. Long stretches without water or respite at any inhabited place.
“The three wise men must have had a lot of practical concerns—worries about where they were actually going, how long it would take, how much food and water they would need, what sort of dangers would they meet on the way.
“But in a section of their narrative titled ‘The Miraculous Journey,’ they tell us they simply followed the star, which shone so brilliantly in the sky, they couldn’t distinguish between day and night. In doing so, they traveled ‘without distress or weariness.’
“Worries about running out of food and water were needless. They related that their provisions were continuously and mysteriously replenished and ‘abundant.’ When they crossed the dangerous places and faced wild animals, ‘we trampled them.’ Even the mountains, hills, and rugged places were smooth, and rivers were crossed ‘by foot, without fear.’
“And so the Magi eventually found the Christ child in the manger, as their prophecy foretold, and presented their gifts on bended knees. Finally, we are told in the Bible that they were warned in a dream that King Herod intended to kill the child, so they decided to journey home by a different route, rather than return to him as commanded. And that is an important part of the story as well,” she noted.
“What does this story mean to us today? How should we interpret and relate this vivid tale to our lives, to our own spiritual journeys?
“For me, the story holds an important message, one that is so central and essential to the miracle and message of Christmas. We’re all given the opportunity to follow the star, to seek out God, to view and worship Him face-to-face, if we dare. The brilliant star, the sign that He is waiting for us, is there for all of us to see.
“But like the Magi, we need to take that heavenly sign to heart. To recognize it as a life-changing revelation and make its message a priority in our lives.
“When the wise men saw the star, their account says they rejoiced and ‘gave unmeasured thanks to our Father of heavenly majesty that it appeared in our day. And we were thought worthy to see it.’
“Like the Magi, we must give thanks that we’ve been given this opportunity. We must drop everything in order to embark on this quest, a journey that can be fearful and dangerous. But if we commit to it with faith and trust, our fears and worries will be needless. We will be guided and protected each step of the way. We’ll be provided for abundantly, and we will cross the rough roads, the deserts and mountains, and even rivers, without harm or effort.”
Isabel stared down at her notes and took a settling breath. She wasn’t quite sure how this was going over. Was she making her point clearly? Was her analogy here meaningful and reaching them?
“Lastly, like the Magi, we make the journey bearing gifts. Their hearts were filled with joy as they offered their treasures to the newborn infant. Isn’t it true that God has blessed each one of us in some way, with some special gift? So that we can give that gift, the best that we have, back to the world, as an offering to our creator. As a way of giving thanks to our Savior for coming into this world and giving His life for us.
“Once we make that journey, like the Magi, we’re forever altered and can never go back the same way,” she concluded, emphasizing her words.
“Most of all, the story of the Magi urges us to seek out an intimate, one-on-one relationship with God, to make that a true goal and priority in our lives. And to offer our gifts—our talents, the best that we have inside
—in the most meaningful way that we are able.
“In doing so, we all become wise men . . . and wise women. We all can claim a place in the scene at the manger. Each and every one of us steps into that familiar tableau”—she turned and motioned to the crèche that had been set up on the altar—“with a unique and important role in the Christmas miracle.”
When Isabel finished, she felt a little as if she were waking up from a dream, or at least had not been fully conscious of the full sanctuary as she was delivering her final thoughts.
She looked around at her listeners. A few nodded and smiled at her. Some sat back with thoughtful expressions. Even Lillian Warwick, wearing a contemplative frown, seemed to have taken the sermon in and was giving it due consideration.
Isabel continued with the service, feeling relieved that she had jumped this very high hurdle. The rest would be easy, she thought. It would pass in the blink of an eye.
It was not quite a blink, but practically, Isabel thought a short time later. At the end of the closing hymn, Isabel stood in front of the communion table. She raised her hand over the congregation and gave the final blessing.
The choir sang a closing introit, a few bars of Handel’s Messiah—the Hallelujah Chorus, of course. As those beautiful harmonies concluded, Isabel was supposed to walk down the center aisle of the church and wait in the narthex to greet the congregation members. But instead, she lingered at the front of the sanctuary. When the chorus was finished and the pews began to empty, she raised one hand, asking for attention.
“Before you all go, I have a few more words,” she said.
There was a questioning murmur. Many were standing and putting on their coats, but they all soon found their seats again and looked up at her with curious expressions.
“I know this is very unusual. But I have a short announcement to make,” she began. “It has been my great honor and privilege to serve at this church the last few weeks. I didn’t know what to expect when I took the assignment. But whatever I did imagine this place and the members of this church would be like, I could have never imagined the wonderful spirit, warmth, and openhearted community that you have created here.
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