Being There

by Peggy Haymes, Pinnacle Associate

As a church staff member, I always loved being a part of leading worship, but never so much as on Christmas eve.

From the front of the church, I had the full view of light spreading through the darkness, candle by candle. I saw the softly lit expressions emerging from that darkness, faces of delight and love and hope.

And yes, sadness and grief as well.

One by one.

Light by light until only pockets of darkness and shadowy corners remained in the midst of the light. And then the lifting of the candles on the final verse of the final hymn, candles lifted in joy, in grand defiance of the dark.

The danger of leading worship, as you well know, is that our minds are always on to the next thing. What am I supposed to be doing next? What did I leave out?

If you are so lucky, however, this year to find yourself standing in front of a darkened sanctuary where the light is being passed, allow yourself to be there.

Don’t fret about how many people are or are not there. Instead, let yourself notice how the light spreads to fill the space.

Don't fret about what you messed up in the course of the service, if indeed you did mess up. Instead, stand in the wonder of how generous people are in sharing their light.

Don't distract yourself by calculating how quickly you can get to wherever you need to be after this. (I used to have to leave our Christmas eve service to race to my hometown 40 minutes away where my family was – and I mean this literally – sitting at the dining room table with forks practically in hand waiting for my arrival.)

Instead, for this moment, this one moment.. Be here.

Take a breath and be present.

Take it in.

The light.

The music.

The promise.

The hope.

Encode the memory in your brain and ponder it in your heart.

Make a place for it in your soul so that when on a random day there is too much too much-ness, you can remember and be present again as the light shines in the darkness.

Again and again and again.