Ministers’ Message
This year, as we turn toward Christmas Eve, I find myself returning to the closing scene of Dickens’ story. After all the visitations, after the long night that confronted his life from every angle, Scrooge awakens to Christmas morning with joy that surprises even him. He laughs. He dances. He calls out the window as though the world has suddenly opened. And then he makes a vow: “I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” His promise rises from the deep place where grace has taken hold, and it marks the beginning of a life lived with a newly opened heart.
What moves me most about this moment is how clearly it echoes the heart of our own Christmas story. Scrooge wakes to a world that is already full of grace, charity, and joy. He wakes to a day that celebrates generosity and renewal. He wakes to a season that proclaims peace on earth and goodwill for all people, a message that is far more than idealism acted out by children in angel costumes. In Christian faith, Christmas is the day we remember that God chose to enter human life not through power, but through vulnerability. That the light of God was born into lowly circumstances. That hope arrived in a child who depended on the kindness of others from the very beginning. Dickens’ story gestures toward this truth: transformation begins when love finds us where we are, and when we dare to believe another way of living is possible.
The blessing that closes Dickens’ tale belongs to Tiny Tim: “God bless us, every one.” It is the final word of the story for good reason. Tim’s blessing gathers Scrooge into its circle, just as the Christ child gathers all of humanity into a blessing meant for the whole world. As we gather on Wednesday night for Christmas Eve, we will hear again the promise that light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it. This is the heart of Christmas. It is not a sentimental hope. It is the courageous belief that life and love will always rise, no matter how deep the night feels.
Then comes the Sunday after Christmas, quieter and gentler. Dickens tells us Scrooge “kept Christmas well,” and that phrase has always stayed with me. Scrooge does not wake up perfect. He wakes up willing. He wakes up grateful. He wakes up ready to practice kindness in the daily rhythm of his life. Keeping Christmas well is the work of steady tenderness. It is remembering the vulnerable child in the manger and letting that memory soften us. It is choosing generosity when the world grows anxious. It is letting the lessons of grace follow us long after the carols fade.
On the Sunday after Christmas, our worship will echo that spirit. We will give thanks for the presence of God with us. We will remember the people whose lives bless our own. We will look toward the year ahead with hope born from the truth that God walks with us in every season. This is what it means to keep Christmas well: to carry the light of Christ into the ordinary days that follow the holy night.
If you would like to revisit the final chapter of A Christmas Carol in preparation for Christmas, you will find it in Stave Five.
As we draw near to Christmas Eve and the days beyond it, I encourage you to let the promise of the Incarnation speak to every part of your life. Let the light of Christ meet you where joy is bright and where sorrow still lingers. Let it remind you that hope is born in unexpected places. Let it strengthen your belief that love will rise again and again in our world. The grace that found Scrooge still finds us. The light that broke into the world still shines.
May the blessing of the Christ child rest on you and all whom you love.
May the light of Christmas warm your home and guide your way.
May God bless our church, our community, and all the places where love is needed most.
May God bless us, every one.