There’s a funny meme I saw on Facebook about getting into heaven. The caption reads: “The Eternal Screening Process”. The scene depicts St Peter at the head of a cordoned off area, on one side, containing a waiting crowd of people. He consults his computer to check which one of the humans are ‘approved’ to enter eternal glory. 

On the other side of the cordoned section is a wide-open corridor, where many dogs are running straight into heaven under a gate that reads: “Pre-Approved”.

So, if you are an animal person—someone who has pets at home or whose significant relationships are with animals—then the Christmas story is for you! Because several of the humans in this story are, frankly, a letdown:

The first roadblock the holy family encounters is a ‘No Vacancy’ sign hanging over the door to the Bethlehem Inn. There is no room for them here. There’s no place among humans for Mary to give birth to, to make room for, baby Jesus.

But the animals have room in their house, the stable, for the Lord. Their place becomes the holy site for Jesus’ birth. The animals are the heroes on the night Jesus was born. Maybe that’s why years later when Jesus told stories about the truth of God’s kingdom, he talked a lot about sheep.[1]

So, maybe the animals and those who cared for them—the shepherds—were always near and dear to Jesus’ heart. You could say that because of Jesus’ experience, God has a special forever-place in his heart for sheep and shepherds.

There are some ‘lost sheep’ in the congregation. Yes, literally. Small sheep figurines or stuffed animals, or ornaments, or cut-out wooden sheep for outdoor nativities—somewhere in sight, tucked away, or on a ledge, or hanging from something, or leaning against a wall. Ok! Those are all the hints I’m giving you!

I would ask the children in the congregation to find those sheep as quietly and as quickly as you can (there are 7) and bring them to the front where you can place them in the manger right beside Jesus where they belong.

After all, they need to go home. And they can take care of Jesus this Christmas night.

I’d like to introduce you to a modern-day shepherd. Her name is Heiða [pronounced ‘Hey-a’]. I first met her by reading the best-selling book, subtitled: “A Shepherd at the Edge of the World”.[2] Her job, as a farmer, is to raise and look after sheep. Some five hundred sheep.

Where do you think she does her shepherding job? What country? Here are a couple of hints: She does this in the last place on earth you would think shepherds do their job. And, while Heiða lives and farms at the edge of the world, her land has been farmed since the 12^th century. Any guesses?

Her farm is located in Iceland. She says, “My land, which is vast by Icelandic standards, is mainly wilderness beyond the boundary of the highlands.”[3] There are no fences or walls surrounding this vast pastureland.

From the point of view of sheepherding, this is a significant detail. And might also explain why, in fact, there was room not in the inn but in the stable of Bethlehem. Perhaps not all the sheep were in the barn at the time, but rather out in the fields with the shepherds.

It’s a scary proposition for shepherds, and especially for Heiða whose hundreds of sheep will roam deep into the highlands and wilderness for weeks and months on end. Much of the book talks about how she and her neighbours will round up all the sheep at the end of the season—it’s an extensive, labour-intensive, time-consuming job. There’s lots of ground to cover! Some sheep get lost, indeed. But for the most part, year after year the shepherds herd all of their sheep back into the barns in time for winter.

In his story-telling Jesus implies we are sheep. So, let’s push that image further. Because if Jesus is the shepherd watching us flocks by night, he really does give us a lot of freedom to roam. It must take a very special God indeed to say to us: “Go. Go for a season. Be free. Make your choices. Explore the vast landscape. You’re on your own, for the most part and for a while. Take responsibility for yourself. And see you in a few months!”

We say God is in control. Well, in a metaphysical sense perhaps. Things we don’t really have any control over anyway – like where and when we are born, to whom we are born, what part of the world we are born into, and some of the big events of our lives. Yeah. We’re not in control, for sure. So, it’s good to say, God is.

But God is not in control of us. We are not puppets on a string. We are not forced to conform to others. No. Even though God is our God, our loving shepherd gives us the freedom to roam even at the proverbial “edge” of the world: being your own person, not trying to please everyone, not conforming to someone else’s expectations of you, pushing the boundaries of what’s possible, being creative, taking thought-out risks, changing things up when things need changing, being bold.

The good news is that no matter how far we go, with whom we roam, no matter the number of times we slip and fall, get stuck, get lost, we know one thing: We can count that the Good Shepherd will come and find us at the end of the season. We can trust God to bring us home when it’s time and especially in the night-times of our lives when it’s tough. We’ll never be lost forever. God will come for us, even in the darkest night.

We can echo the words of the Psalmist—

If I flew to the point of sunrise, or westward across the sea, your hand would still be guiding me, your right hand holding me.[4]

Heiða, in her book, talks about the biggest threat to her sheep: Do you know what that is? Hint: It’s been in the news a lot lately—volcanoes. The nearby volcano is called Katla. It erupts on average every fifty years. She lives and works these days expecting the old volcano to erupt and disrupt her efforts to keep the sheep safe.

When Jesus was born, the biggest threat may not have been a local volcano. It was King Herod, but just as volcanic was he in his efforts to kill any threats to his power. Jesus was born, amidst the animals, at a time when the world was under siege.

But we know how the story ends. Come back at Easter time to hear that one. Spoiler alert: In the end, the good guys win.

But for now, at this time of year when the nights are long and we groan under the weight of all the things that threaten, discourage, and dampen our spirits, be rest assured that we will again hear the voice of, and see, our loving shepherd coming over the hill to gather us back home.

[1] For example: “I am the shepherd, you are the sheep” (John 10:1-18); the lost sheep (Luke 15:1-7); the goats and the sheep story (Matthew 25:31-46).

[2] Steinunn Sigurðardóttir, translated by Philip Roughton, “Heiða: A Shepherd at the Edge of the World” (London: John Murray Publishers, 2020).

[3] Ibid., p.2.

[4] Psalm 139:9-10 (trans. Jerusalem Bible)

In the Christmas Eve candlelight service we all light our individual candles to symbolize the light of Christ coming into the world.

In this ritual, there’s another symbol for these candles I’d like us to consider: These candles represent each one of us. The light of Christ shines in our very own lives.

I took a photo of one of the advent wreaths we constructed in our home this past month; you can see it below. To begin with we had four, good-sized pillar candles we set in a bed of stones. But the glass holder had a relatively small diameter. The only way they would all fit in the container was to place the four candles right beside each other so they were touching. 

As the four candles burned down, pretty soon we realized our mistake. They were too close to each other. The flames from the candles conspired to melt the wax in an accelerated, agitated fashion. The melted wax pooled quickly and often snuffed out the drowning wicks. We managed the candles as best as we could. But by the end all that was left was one amorphous blob of wax at the bottom of the bowl.

The candles burn much better when there is more space between each of them.

One of my favourite rituals of Christmas is shining all manner of lights. There are various and different kinds of lights—LED, flashing electrical lights for outdoor use, fairy white lights on boughs of spruce and pine, candlelight, and the list goes on. Yet all of them still do one thing: they provide light. It’s all about the light. These candles we light tonight belong to the one light of God. All light comes from God.

At a deeper level, we are all united, and share, in the light of Christ. All of it belongs to the One. At a deeper level, God overcomes whatever separates and divides us. In our common humanity, like all the wax pooling together at the bottom of the bowl, therein we find the one light in us all.

At Christmas, we often discover and experience our failings, weaknesses, and limitations in our relations. Amidst the intensity of those relationships, may we be reminded again of the good news of Christmas: That our individual lives–where necessary space is important–we still belong to a larger, brighter and ever-burning light. This is the life and love of God coming into the world at Christmas, and whose life and love is for the whole world.

I have tree problems, I must admit. The Christmas tree inside the house, and the trees outside our house, have certain challenges, you might say.

When I ordered our artificial Christmas tree some years ago, I wanted it to be tall enough to just reach the ceiling of our living room. So I ordered the 10-foot one. However when it arrived and I set it up in place, the tip was about 6 inches too long. So, I had to deal with a crooked tip. How would a star fit on top of my Christmas Tree?

The opposite problem existed outside. The tips, the leads, of two of my six white pine trees, now about 6 feet tall have fallen off because of the white pine blister fungus. These trees will lose their straight-line trunk as they grow and reach for the sky. 

When these tips fell off a couple months ago, I must admit I grieved this change of their life’s trajectory. The trees will have a crooked trunk from about six feet up. Their new branches near the top will eventually bend towards the sky. They will not look the way I had envisioned when I first planted the seedlings in a row at the back of our property.

When I did a book search on Amazon using the title “The Crooked Tree” I was surprised to find not one, but several books with this title. All of them were geared to Christmas time, and most of them offered a spiritual message.^[1]

I guess I’m not alone in searching for meaning in a Christmas Tree that is not perfect, crooked in fact. Would we yearn for a celebration of Christ’s birth that was not encumbered by expectations we have, expectations that contribute to the stress of the season?

I love Charlie Brown Christmas trees – a 2-foot tall, low-leaning branch in a pot, really, bearing only one red ball which pulls down the tip. Whenever I see one in someone’s house, I gravitate towards it. 

But when we set up our Charlie Brown Christmas trees, is it the only festive tree in the house? Or, is it meant only to serve some comic-relief, meant merely to complement the other more serious decorations in our homes? Do we make sure the real, dressed up, ‘perfect’ tree is centred in front of the picture window in the grand rooms of our homes? I’d be tempted to go there, I must admit.

I like the story about Martin Luther in the sixteenth century going into the bush before Christmas, cutting down and hauling in an evergreen tree to put candles on it. Lighted, these candles attached to the branches of the tree. They reminded Luther of the stars that he saw shining in the sky above. They filtered through branches of the forest around him. Martin Luther, of course, understood these lights to symbolize the light of Christ shining in the dark, the light coming into the world.

I will read later tonight from the first chapter of the Gospel of John describing the light coming into the world.^[2] That is the meaning of Christmas—Jesus, Son of God, came to us. 

And what is more to this story of Jesus coming – the Light of the world shining in the night – is that God does not wait until the morning. God does not wait until midday when all is bright in our lives. God comes at night when the monsters creep in the shadows and our minds and hearts can’t see clearly.

Understand, God does not wait until everything is perfect. God does not wait until you find your way. God does not wait until you get it right. God does not wait until you fix all your problems. God does not wait until everything that is wrong is gone. God does not wait until COVID is over before coming into our lives.

Because on a crooked branch, there is still room. The top part of my Christmas tree can still hold a star. There is room aplenty on crooked branches to hold all manner of stars.

And God rejoices this night. God rejoices that the tree with crooked branches can bear the star, hold the light. And that is all we are: Christ-bearers, holders of the light. Our hearts, our lives, crooked and imperfect in every way imaginable, can still reflect and hold the light that has come. That, my friends, is good news.

It just makes me want to sing! “O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree …”

^[1] A couple of books I have read recently – Damian Chandler, The Crooked Christmas Tree: The Beautiful Meaning of Jesus’ Birth (New York: Hachette Book Group Inc., 2017); and, Michael Tracey, The Crooked Christmas Tree (Michael Tracey, 2012).

^[2] John 1:1-5

This Christmas Eve many of us worship in our homes.

I’ve asked you to bring and light a candle for the duration of this time of prayer online. Perhaps as we look to the weeks ahead, we’ll all be spending more time at home during the lockdown, and there will ample opportunity for you to create a space and time for prayer, and light your Christmas candle. In fact, you may want to light it for a few minutes each of the twelve days of Christmas.

Lighting a candle and pondering its flame is a simple act. Yet doing so provides you with a focus for prayer. It creates a holy space in your home. And brings an awareness of God’s presence closer to your heart.

Maybe that’s the good news in this COVID-Christmas. Because isn’t that the truly evangelical faith – to experience personally an encounter with the Lord? Not by going to some other place from where you live, sleep, eat and spend most of your days. Not in holy sanctuaries far away. Not somewhere you need to drive to or take a bus or walk. But right where you are. Right where you live.

Christmas is about God coming into our world. And for many of us this Christmas, our world is very close to home. Where the heart is. For all the missional work the church aspires to and the social gatherings many of us love in the public spaces of our lives, the faith at some point still needs to resonate in the heart of the believer. And that’s what this Christmas is about. Inviting us to press the reset button on faith, by starting at home, where we are.

In an email that I received from a friend a few weeks ago they signed off not with  “Sincerely” or “Best wishes” or “With warmest regards.” Rather they signed off their letter by writing “Keep negative.” Keep negative? What did they mean?

I reacted to that statement and I wondered if they were being brassy or making a dig at me, always trying to put a positive spin on everything. Were they trying to be funny? It seemed odd to sign off that way. Anyway, I asked what they had meant by ‘keep negative’. 

They laughed and said it was a COVID reference. Keep negative. That is, if and when you get tested for the coronavirus, they hoped I would get a negative result. Not a positive one.

It was my turn to laugh. Of course. And then I reflected, how easy it is for us to focus on the negative. It’s almost our default. Even when there is good news. We’re afraid that if we are overly positive the other shoe will drop and something bad is just waiting to happen. 

Even when there is so much for which to be thankful. Even when there is so much that we have. It’s easier to ‘keep negative’ and talk about what is not happening this Christmas, what is wrong in the world, how dark it is. The ‘good news’ can be staring us in the face, and we don’t acknowledge it. We choose to turn away from it.

Christmas is a time to focus on that single flame from that single candle surrounded by darkness and give thanks for the greatest gift of love and life in Christ. Christmas is ‘good news’ that we need to recognize, first in our own hearts. And then spread it to others around us.

The message of Christmas is that divinity and humanity unite – and we see that first and foremost in Jesus. But the purpose of Jesus was to bring that awareness and truth into our own lives. So, during this COVID Christmas we are pressed, indeed, to grapple with Christ in our own lives.

The image of a pregnant Mary carrying the Christ child to birth is an image to hold onto. This Christmas, we carry the Christ child in our own hearts. And if at first you can’t find Jesus there, take some time to explore the interior regions of your own soul. This Christmas, we are invited to traverse the inner landscape of our hearts, and discover the spirit of Christ lives there, too. Even where there is pain, illness and fear.

That Christ Jesus chooses to live there despite all that is not right — this is good news. And this news brings joy, peace, and hope. So, keep positive; there is good reason.