Christmas Laughter

Several years ago I was associate pastor in a church very similar to my current church of Weatherly Heights. We followed the liturgical calendar, supported women in ministry, believed strongly in missions and shared a few other distinctives. We also had a Christmas Eve service. The service began at 11:00 pm every Christmas Eve and was a strange mix of formal and informal. The ministers wore robes, the organ played, we sang the familiar Christmas hymns and we would light the Christ candle. In an effort to encourage young families, children were invited to come in their pajamas. It was a wonderful service.

One year during the service we had entered into a most solemn time. It was an extended period of silence in which we prayed and reflected on the coming of Christ into the world. As I stood next to my pastor on the platform and pondered on the significance of the moment, I folded my arms across my chest. I was in deep, deep thought. Then, as if on cue, came a faint sound, a musical something. It came swirling around my head and began to gain momentum and volume. The sound was a tune, an electronic tune. It was “Here Comes Santa Clause.” It could have been a cell phone today but it wasn’t. Its point of origin began to awaken within me a most terrifying thought. Could it be? It was. It was me! My new Christmas tie had a button in it and when I had folded my arms I unleashed its power. The coming of Christ had been upstaged by the coming of Santa. I tried to stop it. I grabbed the tie that had bunkered itself under my heavy robe. I found the button and pressed it. The tune started over. I pressed it again. It started over again. What do I do? I decided a dash to the U-Haul store might be appropriate but remembered it wouldn’t be open for a couple more days. Maybe if I look at my pastor with a quizzical expression the good folks in the congregation would think it was him. I looked over and he wasn’t smiling so I ruled that out. I finally managed to grab the tie and shove the device under my arm and held it there. Now only a faint sound, somebody said amen, the organ began, and we began singing. Saved.

I’ve got to believe that at such times that God must certainly smile, even laugh, at us and with us during such foibles. Seeing a young minister become glowing red enough to challenge Rudolf on the night of such importance must bring God a sense of pleasure in knowing that meaning well is enough when things go awry.

It also causes me to appreciate the gift of forgiveness. The pastor never said a critical word. The congregation chuckled about the experience, especially at Christmas time in the years following. It really was a small thing. I’ve done much worse. But every time there have been those gracious souls that have smiled and forgiven. I’ve tried to do the same. There are many gifts that Santa brings this time of year but none, none, so great as the gift that came with the Child – the gift of forgiveness . . . of ourselves . . . and of others. Thanks be to God.