The Christmas Church
Camouflaged amidst the falling snow was the little white country church. All Christmas like it stood as the flag flapping in the wind at full mast called all those passersby to attention. Only thing is, nobody was passing by nor stopping by for that matter. Long ago the little country church had closed its doors. Yet, a few still knew the secret within.
Watching over were the tall pines now laden with snow silhouetted against the night sky. Fresh tracks lead through the gates of the church yard. Deer, rabbit, perhaps a bird or two made their way in to the quiet of this most sacred of spaces. The silence was sheer poetry in the stillness of the snowy eve.
“The communion of saints” had been part of the creed professed each Sunday for all who entered in. No doubt it had also been prayed upon bended knee for those gathering on any other day of the week as well. Now, round and about the little Christmas church were the markers. Each stone was proof of blessings now flowing forth into the world at large. Yes, stabilizing the ground upon which we trod are the saints who’ve gone before us.
Mound like markers of white snow now lay upon each of the long cement steps leading to the entrance of the front doors of the Christmas church. And, for one holy moment, one could all but visualize neighbor greeting neighbor as they gathered to shovel snow before the service. Wood stove flames must be fanned as others would soon be arriving. The kitchen below the sanctuary had to be warmed for those coming in on horseback a few miles away.
Yes, only from a few miles away the people did come as there were many little Christmas churches dotting the landscape…each caring for its people within. Far enough apart each church stood, yet, close at heart and united in our Savior’s birth they remained.
Snow was no excuse to stay home. On the contrary, each was needed. Neighbor depended upon neighbor to make life better or to minimally maintain…and so they came. They came to worship at the Christmas church in the middle of the falling snow, in the middle of a meadow now set aside for such a time as this.
And the secret? The secret still whispers deep within. If you put your ear to the ground, or pause in sacred silence, you will not only hear it, but you will know it. You see, the Christmas church doors are never closed. They remain open no matter the season. He speaks it well by inviting you in.
“Knock and the door shall be opened to you” (Matt. 7:7).
The next time you pass by… enter in. In the quiet, knock. He awaits.
Amen.
