On Christmas morning we looked at the phrase ‘Christmas is for the children!’ There’s no doubt that the joy and excitement children feel over this festive period is wonderful to behold, and it’s understandable that we associate Christmas with children since it’s the time when we celebrate God in human form, coming as a helpless, vulnerable baby. But even though we may associate Christmas with children, it’s definitely not just for the children.

Christmas is for everyone. It’s a time when we marvel again at God’s way of doing things, at how salvation comes in the form we don’t expect (a baby, not a ruling king) and in a place we don’t really expect (a manger in a stable in a town called Bethlehem, rather in Jerusalem, the seat of royal power.) Isaiah prophesied about this hundreds of years before it happened (Isaiah 11:1-9), looking ahead to a time when ‘the wolf will live with the lamb,  the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling together; and a little child will lead them.’ (Is 11:6) So we need to embrace the wonder, innocence, awe and joy of children (see Matt 18:3, Matt 19:15) whilst understanding that Christmas holds meaning way beyond the glitz, glamour, presents and fairy-tales associated with it. Christmas is good news all year round, and we need to ‘go, tell it from the mountain! Over the hills and everywhere! Go, tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ is born!’ Shake those instruments, dance around and sing it loud. We’ve got good news for everyone!

“Who dares despise the day of small things?” (Zech 4:10)

In looking back over 2020, probably the strangest year I have experienced in my fifty-four years on earth, I am struck by feelings of helplessness and inadequacy in the face of such tumultuous changes to life as we once knew it. Our vocabulary has had to accommodate new meanings to words such as ‘bubble’ and ‘distancing’, and we have all become amateur epidemiologists as we’ve watched daily news briefings about Covid-19. In the face of ongoing isolation and separation, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by helplessness, and that adapting to such situations is impossible.

When churches first closed in March, we were thrust forcibly into the world of livestreaming and Zoom in order to maintain any semblance of normality. With no previous experience of either, conducting a church service felt like a disaster waiting to unfold. The services were shorter, but by the end of them, I felt like I had run a marathon and just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. The day that Zoom itself actually crashed and we ended up livestreaming via Facebook on my phone while people were phoning and texting that same phone to tell us they couldn’t log on to Zoom felt like I would explode. Seeing people on screen left me in tears most Sundays. I was grateful for this means of contact, but at the same time, it hurt so much that this was all I could have; I yearned for more.

Many churches have done amazing things this year, especially with recording separately and editing together to make beautiful worship sets, whereas Garry and I would be in the building, him playing the guitar, us singing to a congregation where the Internet speed and ‘lag’ made it virtually impossible for them to sing along. Inadequacy gnawed away even as we became used to manipulating different devices (“we used three devices today!” Garry declared triumphantly in the second lockdown). What good could this possibly do?

In the run-up to Easter, I bought reams of brown paper and wrapped up craft sets to post out to local families. Could this really do any good? Over the year, this scenario was repeated at key times as we desperately tried to keep in touch with people we would usually see on a weekly basis. Later, we would manage to actually distribute these things in person with a military-style operation of time slots to avoid unnecessary mixing of households. Pointless or helpful? It was hard to know.

Singing nursery rhymes to a picture of yourself, praying while talking to a phone on a music stand, sending packets of seeds to people as a reminder that life goes on beyond our present misery – these have been some of the bizarre things this year has brought. Every prophetic act has seemed utterly crazy and wholly inadequate in the face of ongoing doom and gloom all around us. Our last venture into technology (recording a Nativity in different locations and editing it together) was another exercise in faith, because with our limited skills and resources, this was never going to be the blockbuster which went viral for which I secretly longed.

This year, more than ever, has forced me to understand that ministry is never about performance but all about service done with love. I feel, almost daily, wholly inadequate to serve my local church and local area, but this verse from Zechariah, along with Matt 10:13 and the promise that even giving a cup of cold water to someone will not go unrewarded, have helped me to maintain some kind of perspective. If we sow in faith, then we will indeed reap a harvest. (Ps 126:5-6) I know first-hand that small things mean a lot: the cards and flowers received when my father died helped me to stay grounded in love; gifts of appreciation such as this cross-stitch plaque and flower arrangement have helped me to keep going:

So do not dare to despise small things. Whilst individually these may seem insignificant and even irrelevant, when sown with faith and love, each small act of random kindness and faith can produce a harvest of righteousness, peace and hope. After all, it’s from the tiny acorns that mighty oaks do grow.

This year has been a year of almost unremitting bad news, but the Christmas story is definitely a story of good news: in the words of the angel to the shepherds: ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.’ (Luke 2:10)

News means ‘newly received or noteworthy information, especially about recent events.’ How many times have people scrolled through news briefings this year looking for the most up-to-date news, looking for newly received information? But sometimes, we need good news that brings great joy even if it is not newly received or a recent event. Each year, we re-tell the Christmas story, not because it is recent or newly received, but simply because it is good news!

Christmas is a time when we remember that God cared enough to enter our world, to take on human flesh, to embrace humanity. It’s a time when we remember that God has a human face and that face is called Jesus. It’s a time when no matter how hopeless things seem, no matter how dark, we see light shining. (Is 9:2) Because Jesus was born in Bethlehem as a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger, there is hope; there is peace; there is great joy. We need to be a people who embrace Jesus and His good news with courage and faith and joy.

The Christmas story is not just a fairy-tale to be dusted off out of sentiment; it is a story packed with good news and truth and is capable of bringing great joy. Jesus was born to conquer the grave, as one of the songs heard tonight declared. (‘Christmas Day’, Chris Tomlin) This year, more than ever, when death statistics have been rammed down our throats on a daily basis, we need to know that there is good news which defies death, and the fact that Jesus came as that baby in Bethlehem reminds us of this truth. Not even death can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.

The angel’s message to the shepherds reminds us there is no need to fear. Perfect love casts out fear. (1 John 4:18) In God, we can know freedom from fear and can receive a joy that gives us strength. (Neh 8:10) Be careful what news you listen to. Embrace the good news of Jesus Christ.

We had people attend our carol service tonight in Christmas jumpers.

We also anticipated two birthdays (one on Christmas Eve and one on New Year’s Eve):

In addition to our ‘Good News Nativity’ (recorded by church members and edited together by Garry), we also used percussion to be involved in carols:

We had readings and read out carols as well as ending our service outdoors where we could sing heartily (‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’ and ‘Joy To The World.’)

The answer to the question ‘Where Is God?’ is that He is both everywhere and here with us. But it can be really difficult to believe God is near to us when we do not feel His presence. One of the hardest things we face as Christians is a sense of abandonment, a feeling that God is not with us, that we are alone. This is often called ‘the dark night of the soul’, a phrase coined by St John of the Cross in the 16^th century in a poem he wrote describing the anguish he felt at what he perceived to be God’s absence. Almost anything is bearable if we can sense God’s presence with us and can glimpse something of His plans and purposes for us, but there are times when we can struggle with a sense of meaning in the world, when life seems to be purposeless and we don’t feel God’s comfort and presence.

Mother Teresa wrote of the silence of God and the emptiness she felt in letters that were only published after her death. She wrote, ‘In the darkness . . . Lord, my God, who am I that you should forsake me?  The child of your love — and now become as the most hated one. The one — you have thrown away as unwanted — unloved. I call, I cling, I want, and there is no one to answer . . . Where I try to raise my thoughts to heaven, there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives and hurt my very soul.  Love — the word — it brings nothing.  I am told God lives in me — and yet the reality of darkness and coldness and emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul.’

We may be surprised to hear these words, for people very often don’t talk about these feelings for fear of rejection or simply because they feel so forsaken. Outwardly, Mother Teresa was the very model of what it means to be a Christian, revered by everyone as a saint. Inwardly, she struggled to ‘feel’ the presence of God with her. That did not stop her, however, from serving God and from loving Him and the world. The key to Christian life is to understand that feelings don’t have the last word.

Feelings are often a most unreliable guide to reality, because they are essentially subjective, as Eugene Peterson remarks, “Feelings are great liars. If Christians worshipped only when they felt like it, there would be precious little worship. Feelings are important in many areas but completely unreliable in matters of faith.” (‘The Journey’, Eugene Peterson) As Casting Crowns put it:

‘I can’t live by what I feel,

But by the truth Your word reveals.’ (‘East To West’, Casting Crowns)

What we have to do in those times when we don’t ‘feel’ God’s presence is to align ourselves with the truth of God’s word. In essence, we say (as Mother Teresa did) that it doesn’t matter what we feel; it doesn’t matter what we see. What matters is that God has told us He is near, that He is always with us, and therefore we will continue to walk by faith and not by sight. (2 Cor 5:7)

In continuing with our series on ‘Questions’, today we looked at the question, ‘Where Is God?’ This is a question that has deep resonance through the ages, and in this present bewildering time, many feel confused about God’s presence in the midst of our suffering and pain.

The simple answer to the question lies in God’s omnipresence: He is everywhere. But in exploring this question, we have to look at both God’s transcendence and His immanence, truths which Scripture hold in perfect tension. God’s transcendence means that God is exalted, above, beyond us. He is ‘other’, not the same as us. He is far greater than us. The Bible often talks in terms of God being ‘exalted’ or ‘lifted up’ (see Ex 15:1,21; Ps 46:10; Ps 57:5, 11; Ps 92:8; Ps 97:9) This is not so much a geographical location for God as the reminder that He is Lord. Two key verses are Ps 115:2-3 (‘Why do the nations say, “Where is their God? ³ Our God is in heaven; he does whatever pleases him.’ ) and Deut 4:39 (‘the Lord is God in heaven above and on the earth below.’)

God’s transcendence can lead us to feel that He is so far above us that He does not care about us and is indifferent to our suffering. Nothing could be further from the truth. God’s immanence means He is near us (Phil 4:5); He has promised always to be with us. (Matt 28:20; Heb 13:5) God is closer than a brother (Prov 18:24); He is ‘God with us – Immanuel’ (Matt 1:23). We have the assurance of God’s word that when we gather in His name, He is there with us. (Matt 18:20)

The truths of God’s transcendence and immanence mean that we have a powerful and mighty God who is always with us, tenderly caring for us and sustaining us at all times. Whether we feel His presence or not is ultimately irrelevant. What is true is that the answer to the question ‘Where is God?’ is that He is ‘here’ with us and His presence makes all the difference.