Here it is, Christmas time again. And if that sounds like there's a tone of dread in it, then you're right. 'Tis the season of parties and concerts galore, and each event usually requires some kind of music. Enter, Yours, Truly. This is the biggest, busiest season of the year for Cathy and I. It's wonderful that God provides for us so plentifully during this time, but it is stressful, as well.

The downside is that I so quickly lose sight of what this is all about in the first place. (If you go to any Evangelical church during this season, you'll undoubtedly hear a sermon on this very topic...) I fall prey to the same thing that I so quickly criticize in others: the commercialization of Christmas. Heck, it provides food for my family! How can I not at least buy in on some level? "Just one more gig, and the bills will be paid and I can get Corrie that special gift she wanted..."

One payoff is that I so deeply love the music of this season. (The traditional music, mind you; not necessarily the soulless dreck that we hear more and more in our public school "winter concert" programs...) One of my favorite gigs this season is also the most grueling. I'll be playing for six hours at a local mall on the 20th. Six hours of Christmas music. But it's six hours of playing, improvising, riffing and journeying through music that so beautifully captures what this season is really about: Christ. Hey, I get to worship for six hours in the middle of a mall while people walk by and occasionally leave a tip in my jar!

After all the gigs are done, all the bills are paid and all the gifts are wrapped for my own tired family, I have one last "gig": the Christmas Eve service at my church. Usually a fun night of music and reflection, I really enjoy it and the music, as well as seeing my "family" of friends from EBF. When it's done, they all go home, and I tear down the equipment and say goodbye to the sound techs and other pastors. Then I'm finally alone.

My little tradition is to turn off all the lights except the white lights in the three trees up front. We also have a huge plain wooden cross on the wall, back-lit with some fluorescent bulbs. Quite plain until all the other lights are off.

I'm alone. Before me are the trees of Christmas and the cross of Good Friday.

And silence.

Finally a chance to stop, to reflect, to meditate on the Gift we celebrate maybe only once a year (what a pity). Where has God brought me this past year? Where might He take me this next year? Have I learned anything? Have I been willing to learn?

Blessed silence. And maybe a whisper...

Then I'm off to home and bouncing children and shredded wrapping paper and batteries to install.

And y'know? It's all OK.

Merry Christmas!
n