“[The demon Screwtape writes:] Music and silence—how I detest them both! How thankful we should be that ever since our Father entered Hell—though longer ago than humans, reckoning in light years, could express—no square inch of infernal space and no moment of infernal time has been surrendered to either of those abominable forces, but all has been occupied by Noise— Noise, the grand dynamism, the audible expression of all that is exultant, ruthless, and virile—Noise which alone defends us from silly qualms, despairing scruples, and impossible desires. We will make the whole universe a noise in the end. We have already made great strides in this direction as regards the Earth. The melodies and silences of Heaven will be shouted down in the end. But I admit we are not yet loud enough, or anything like it” (C. S. Lewis, Screwtape Letters).

Whenever I go hiking at Radnor Lake, I love the quiet solitude. What annoys me is when I see people coming toward me and they’re having conversations loud enough for me to hear half a mile away. I get that other people come to Radnor for the social aspect, but I like the silence.

In this culture, silence is almost a dirty word. People fill up all the voids and spaces of their day with some kind of noise. It could be a TV in the background or keeping headphones on all day. From the moment they wake up until the moment they fall asleep, many will not have a single moment of silence in their whole day.

I think in terms of mental health, some amount of silence is good. Nonstop noise isn’t healthy. Plus, creating margins of quiet in your day is inviting God to speak into your life. It’s giving yourself space and time to hear what God may already be speaking to you that you can’t hear over the constant noise.

I’ve known people to go on retreats where they don’t talk or have music or any other sounds for a whole weekend. I don’t know if I’m disciplined enough to do that, but part of me yearns to have quiet from time to time. Sometimes, the hardest part of being quiet is stilling the voices and noise inside your own head. If anyone has good ideas on how to do that, I’m open to suggestions.

The point is that silence is good, and a break from noise isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

I’ll never forget what my pastor has said on a few occasions. He said that some people will come to him in confidentiality and make him promise not to tell anybody else what they’re about to tell him. At some point, some of these people will share their testimonies — and the very first line of their story will be that one thing they promised him not to tell anybody. Their shameful secrets will become an integral part of their story.

The truth is that we all have a story. Even those who didn’t almost die from a drug overdose or alcohol poisoning. Even those who got saved at a young age and didn’t sow all those wild oats. You, too, have a story to share.

Some testimonies begin after salvation. Some people’s faith journeys have as many perils after salvation as before. Some have more. But when you share your story, whether in a large group setting or in a one-on-one conversation, healing takes place. Sometimes you’re the one who is healed. Sometimes someone else hears you sharing their own story in your words and they find healing.

But every single one of us has a unique and special story to tell because God made us all unique and special. In the context of God’s greater story, your story finds meaning and purpose, and it becomes a story worth sharing.

So tell your story. Write your story. Sing your story. Just get it out there, because that’s when the miracles happen.

I love everything about the Christmas season. It’s a time when I return to the best parts of my childhood, when those long gone from me feel closer than ever, when the promise of Emmanuel is fulfilled yet again.

One of my favorite parts of Christmas is the chance to revisit traditions old and new. I love the Dickens of a Christmas festival in Franklin, all the festive lights an decorations at Cheekwood, the overwhelming Opryland Hotel experience, and all the homes and such all lit up for Christmas.

I’m especially thankful for all the traditions after so many of them went away during 2022 and the months following. The old adage that you don’t miss something until it’s gone proved true. But now just about everything is back and I am happy as a kid in a candy store.

I can’t forget all my own personal traditions for the Advent season. I have my list of must-watch movies that I try to fit in to my schedule. I have a list of music that is required listening sometime between Thanksgiving and New Years, including Handel’s Messiah and The Nutcracker.

Plus, there are all the family traditions like egg nog and lasagna on Christmas Eve. Seeing everyone opening their gifts is a tradition that never gets old, no matter how many gifts or years that go by.

What are some of your traditions around Christmas and New Year’s? I might just incorporate them into my 2023 festivities.

Do any of you remember the commercial with the lady with the really short blond hair? I think her name was something like Susan Powter. I remember her catch phrase was “Stop the insanity!”

That’s what I feel like these days.

I feel like more and more December turns into a whirlwind month where sometimes the best you can do is hang on and hold tight. There are so many functions, so many presents to buy, so many Christmas movies to watch (at least for me). It feels like by the time I fully process that it’s Christmas, it’s January. Then I have to process that it’s 2023.

But what if we paused the insanity for a bit and let Advent sink in. God didn’t rush into history, but took His time getting to Bethlehem by way of a frazzled carpenter and his even more frazzled wife. There wasn’t an over the top celebration to announce His arrival — just some shepherds tending to their sheep.

Maybe just stop for a minute and let the reality of Emmanuel set in. God. Is. With. Us. More than any gifts or wrapping paper or parties or decorations or holiday traffic or December madness, God has become flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood in the form of Jesus.

You don’t have to fully process that by December 25. You get every day from now on until you go to meet Jesus or He comes back to meet us all. You have the rest of your life to let God with us sink into your heart and mind and life.

Just be like Linus from A Charlie Brown Christmas and maybe go read the birth story in Luke 2, because that’s what Christmas is really all about, Charlie Brown.

The following is one of the many reasons that Henri Nouwen is in my top 5 list of favorite Christian authors. He really captures the spirit of what it means to be in community here:

“Nothing is sweet or easy about community. Community is a fellowship of people who do not hide their joys and sorrows but make them visible to each other as a gesture of hope.

In community we say: ‘Life is full of gains and losses, joys and sorrows, ups and downs—but we do not have to live it alone. We want to drink our cup together and thus celebrate the truth that the wounds of our individual lives, which seem intolerable when lived alone, become sources of healing when we live them as part of a fellowship of mutual care.’

Community is like a large mosaic. Each little piece seems so insignificant. One piece is bright red, another cold blue or dull green, another warm purple, another sharp yellow, another shining gold. Some look precious, others ordinary. Some look valuable, others worthless. Some look gaudy, others delicate. We can do little with them as individual stones except compare them and judge their beauty and value. When, however, all these little stones are brought together in one big mosaic, portraying the face of Christ, who would ever question the importance of any one of them? If one of them, even the least spectacular one, is missing, the face is incomplete. Together in the one mosaic, each little stone is indispensable and makes a unique contribution to the glory of God. That’s community, a fellowship of little people who together make God visible in the world”

“When have Christians been promised physical security? In the early church it is evident that they did not even expect it! Their security, their true life, was rooted in God; and neither the daily insecurities of the decaying Roman Empire, nor the organized persecution which followed later, could affect their basic confidence. In my judgement, the description which Christ gave of the days that were to come before his return is more accurately reproduced in this fear-ridden age than ever before in human history.…When God decides that the human experiment has gone on long enough, yes, even in the midst of what appears to us confusion and incompleteness, Christ will come again. This is what the New Testament teaches. This is the message of Advent. It is for us to be alert, vigilant and industrious, so that his coming will not be a terror but an overwhelming joy” (J. B. Phillips, Watch for the Light).

It seems that in just about every age it has been dangerous to be a Christian. In many parts of the world it still is. To have Christianity accepted and popular is an anomaly in the history of the world. So why is it that we think that God wants us to be safe all the time?

What God promised was that He would be with us, regardless. Jesus promised that we would have hard times, that not every day would be roses and sunshine, even that we would suffer. Not potentially or possibly, but eventually, we will suffer.

The only way to avoid suffering and hardship is to compromise away your convictions and beliefs so the world will like you more. The only way to truly fit in with a sinful world is to become sinful. The only way to be able to exist comfortably in a maladjusted world is to become maladjusted.

But if we follow Jesus, we can expect the same as Jesus. He was misunderstood and mocked. He was scorned and spat upon. He was abandoned and eventually He was murdered. He said that if we follow Him and do what He says, the same could happen to us. He said we would 100% definitely see trouble and pain.

But still the promise of Advent remains. He will be with us. He will strengthen us to endure whatever He allows us to undergo. And one day He will return to restore all that we have sacrificed and lost, and He will make everything right. All that we have suffered for will finally come to pass and God’s love and mercy will win in the end.

The joy in the end will be so much more than worth any pain or loss we endure along the way.

I don’t know if any other hymn encapsulates the real spirit of Advent and Christmas than this. Let this bit of truth sink in — Jesus gave up absolutely everything for you and for me. It seems foolish to argue about tithing off of the gross or the net income when Jesus gave 100%. It seems silly to talk about which parts of my life belong to God and which parts belong to me when Jesus left nothing on the table but surrendered every bit of who He was and what He had for love’s sake. It’s borderline sacrilegious to get caught up in the frenzy of the season and miss the heart of the season, Emmanuel — God with us.

It’s hard to believe that for as long as Kairos has been around, they’ve never had a Christmas Night of Worship . . . until tonight.

There’s just something special about a night of worship. Adding Christmas into the mix makes it infinitely better.

It’s amazing how you can come into a place of worship full of worries and leave in peace because the songs you’re singing remind you of who’s really in charge. The Object of your worship is fully able to take care of the worshipper.

We sing so much about how good and great God is. Sometimes when we sing the same words enough, they become rote and lose meaning, but a tragedy or stressful week can revive their power to speak into your soul. You can be reminded that it is well and that you will be well because one day that trump shall resound and the Lord will really descend. You can be reminded that because of one silent night, you can have peace. You can be reminded that because Jesus was able to break the seal and open the scroll, He is worthy and able.

Sometimes singing is just you preaching the gospel to yourself set to music. It doesn’t matter if you can sing worth a lick or not, because the Bible tells us to make a joyful noise — not necessarily a joyful symphony. All that matters is that the words of the songs are prayers and declarations to the God who is exceedingly abundantly able to do above and beyond that you ask or think.

We sing because we forget and the words remind us of who God really is and what He can really do. And everybody needs a reminder from time to time.

“Christ was born a martyr. He found a Golgotha, where he was crucified, even in Bethlehem, where he was born; for to his tenderness then the straws were almost as sharp as the thorns after, and the manger as uneasy at first as the cross at last. His birth and his death were but one continual act, and his Christmas day and his Good Friday are but the evening and morning of the same day. And as even his birth is his death, so every action and passage that manifests Christ to us is his birth, for Epiphany is manifestation. Every manifestation of Christ to the world, to the Church, to a particular soul is an Epiphany, a Christmas day” (John Donne).

I guess I don’t get as hung up on “Merry Christmas” versus “Happy Holidays” as I used to. I don’t get offended when store employees don’t say Christmas. I get that not everyone is a believer and that the day of Christmas may not mean as much to them as to me. Also, there are better ways to honor the spirit of Christmas,

I love the idea that me manifesting Jesus to the world can make any day into a Christmas day. Any time I can somehow reflect Jesus so that people can see Him in me and are drawn to Him, then that moment is a kind of Epiphany.

You truly put the Christ in Christmas not by being obnoxious about making other people say “Merry Christmas” or spelling it out with all caps but by living it out. You honor the spirit of Christmas when you honor Jesus words that whatever you have done for the least of these you have done for Jesus. You honor Christmas when you look and act and speak like Jesus. You honor Christmas when you’re always ready to give a reason for the hope that Jesus has brought you.

When Christmas becomes less about presents and more about presence, then you honor the season. When Christmas is less about shopping and consuming and more about worshipping and adoring, then you honor the season. When you seek to serve rather than to indulge, then you capture the essence of the Christ child who came to give His life as a ransom for many. Then you make good your Christmas.

So I did a thing. I splurged an bought myself a ticket to the Behold the Lamb of God concert that’s held annually at the Ryman. Andrew Peterson and cohorts did not disappoint. Whatever I paid was not wasted. I even bought a vinyl to take home with me.

In a world where few things remain as good as they were in the past, this one actually has improved. The entire concert from start to finish was entertaining and uplifting. It may just get added to my list of yearly Advent traditions.

The highlight, as expected, as hearing Jill Phillips sing “Labor of Love,” a song that really captures that night when Mary gave birth to the infant Jesus, Indeed, it was not a silent night.

I might possibly regret staying up late on a work night, but again, it was worth it. I definitely caught the spirit of the season tonight.