Why I hate church Christmas-
I remember going to a little church in Lake Oswego, Oregon when I was a little kid. I don't know how many times I was forced to be in the church Christmas plays... they would wrangle us kids up like stray cattle and herd us into this upstairs closet where they kept all the costumes. The fading cloth smelled like moth and dust- and I'm pretty sure it hadn't been touched since the last year's performance. I felt like they just wanted to see cute kids on stage... it was embarrassing. I remember showing up in the evening- and they'd parade us around- from one entrance to another. Why were we doing this? It felt like slavery. I've been a king- an angel- and Joseph... (which I've since learned is the best male role- because they never have him actually say anything.)
While I remain spiteful and dubious of Church Christmas programs to this day, I think I can now understand and name just what exactly it was which irked me- and is calling me on wards now. I don't want to be apart of something because it's cute- I want to belong because it's meaningful. I don't want to have a performance about beauty- I want to be lost in beauty itself. I don't want to learn about God, I want to feel my heart burn after hearing his voice rattle my bones and reverberate in my soul.
I don't want to hear about- I want to experience with.
I think the reason Christmas taking place during winter is because the still, quiet tempering the cold, dusk beckons us to listen. To stillness and contemplation- so we can really get- really hear, know, feel, experience just what exactly the angels sung. What the shepherds saw. What Mary sung, and why Joseph was remained so quiet.
We need time- purposeful, interval-less, time to be silent. Sometimes eternal celebrations have nothing to do with the noise of the party or the grandiose of the gifts. The streamers and the balloons are speaking now. The colors Red and Green are singing. Hush. Hark the Herald Angels sing...
Glory to the newborn King...
Like what you read? Join in with your own insights, stories and art- send them to ryanpfreeman1@aol.com. Thanks and God bless -Ryan
I remember going to a little church in Lake Oswego, Oregon when I was a little kid. I don't know how many times I was forced to be in the church Christmas plays... they would wrangle us kids up like stray cattle and herd us into this upstairs closet where they kept all the costumes. The fading cloth smelled like moth and dust- and I'm pretty sure it hadn't been touched since the last year's performance. I felt like they just wanted to see cute kids on stage... it was embarrassing. I remember showing up in the evening- and they'd parade us around- from one entrance to another. Why were we doing this? It felt like slavery. I've been a king- an angel- and Joseph... (which I've since learned is the best male role- because they never have him actually say anything.)
While I remain spiteful and dubious of Church Christmas programs to this day, I think I can now understand and name just what exactly it was which irked me- and is calling me on wards now. I don't want to be apart of something because it's cute- I want to belong because it's meaningful. I don't want to have a performance about beauty- I want to be lost in beauty itself. I don't want to learn about God, I want to feel my heart burn after hearing his voice rattle my bones and reverberate in my soul.
I don't want to hear about- I want to experience with.
I think the reason Christmas taking place during winter is because the still, quiet tempering the cold, dusk beckons us to listen. To stillness and contemplation- so we can really get- really hear, know, feel, experience just what exactly the angels sung. What the shepherds saw. What Mary sung, and why Joseph was remained so quiet.
We need time- purposeful, interval-less, time to be silent. Sometimes eternal celebrations have nothing to do with the noise of the party or the grandiose of the gifts. The streamers and the balloons are speaking now. The colors Red and Green are singing. Hush. Hark the Herald Angels sing...
Glory to the newborn King...
Like what you read? Join in with your own insights, stories and art- send them to ryanpfreeman1@aol.com. Thanks and God bless -Ryan
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