At the family service we act it out. Children and costumes transport us to the manger. This year we are in a new place ­ the Saint James Center.

Finally we can tell the tale about how "there was no room at the inn,"
while welcoming everyone who has come to hear the story.

At the late service we celebrate with special music: we have brasses and strings and the gospel according to Luke. The adult choir sings, and hymns and readings from scripture set the stage in our imaginations.

The means of presentation varies between the two services,
but the story is the same. Angels and shepherds, Mary and Joseph,
kings and a stable full of animals ­ all play their part in welcoming the holy child.

We are retelling an ancient story. It has been told a million times, in a million places.
But any telling of this story gives some listener the chance
to truly experience Christmas for the very first time.

A bright light in the distance sky drew the three kings.
We too are drawn to look for something in life.
If we join in their search this starry night,
we may find ourselves finally gazing in wonder at the radiance in the straw.

Look over the shoulder of angels. The night was deep. The silence was shot through with starlight and holy mystery. Then the glimmering darkness was pierced by the cry of a newborn child, and the world was changed forever.

It is very easy to substantiate this claim by simply pointing to western civilization. Centuries of art and literature, and millions of church buildings and holy sites, confirm the fact that the birth of one child changed the course of human history.

Paper and canvas, bricks and mortar, stand as testaments
to the power of this story and the influence of this newborn child.

But the deeper mystery is not found in churches, or books, or even the most beautiful painting. The deeper mystery waits to happen inside each of us. Somewhere in the dark corners of our being, in some rejected inner place, is an emptiness waiting to be filled with newborn light.

This world is not always kind. All of us have been hurt, in one way or another. All of us have hurt others out of ignorance or malice. Any of us can forget the burdens of others in our focus on ourselves. But when Christ comes, a new possibility is born for us all.

God knows us fully: our light and our shadows.
God loves us in spite of our failings ­ in spite of our weaknesses.
We are not expected to make ourselves into mansions before we can be acceptable.
We have heard the story: God is willing to start in a manger,
in a stable, with straw on the floor.

God comes willing to fill that emptiness inside each of us:

to lighten our darkness and to give us life and peace.

But there is so much more to this story,
more than can be told on Christmas Eve ­ more than even Easter can contain.

Letting Christ be in the manger is only the beginning.
The newborn babe will grow into a man, and we are invited to travel with Him.
All year 'round the other stories will be told in church.
Wešll learn about the Law and the Prophets,
the fire on the mountain and the parting of the Red Sea.
We'll come to feel the years of expectation that lead up to this night.

Week after week, we'll say the prayer that Jesus taught the disciples,
until it is written on our hearts.

We'll break the bread and pour the wine, as he commanded us to do.

In the communion we will share,we will remember that life and death, and life eternal, are gathered up and blessed through the spirit of God.

Unto us, all this can be born tonight ­ Come let us prepare a place within.