This from Sally Johnston, Certified Christian Educator and wife to Pastor Keith Johnston at our partner church, Chapel in the Mountains, Anaktuvuk Pass (AKP). Sally gives a hilarious (and a bit frightening) look into their Christmas Eve services this year, and relates it to the probable chaos that actually occured at the original manger after Jesus' arrival. Life is life, no matter who is involved! Thank you Sally for this wonderful glimpse into your life. We hope to hear from you again, and thank you LeeAnn Crumbley for sending this in. (The letter was a a bit long, so it has been edited to fit our blog format).
ekDear Friends and Family,
Keith and I lovingly joke about the holy chaos we often experience as we involve children in worship services at our small chapel, but this was a Christmas Eve service to remember.
Keith left the house around 10 p.m. for the 11 p.m. service, and I promised I would not fall asleep and be there on time. At 11 I awoke to the phone ringing, looked at my watch and snapped awake as I realized the service WAS STARTING!
I jogged-walked along Contact creek, over the bridge and up the hill to the church, and, out of breath, barged in the door. Adults and youth filled the church, while poor Keith dashed about organizing helpers to assist with the Advent wreath, candle-lighting, and communion; my job had I been on time.
Keith gives me directions I only half understand and heads to the pulpit while I scurry around to find art supplies to engage 16 kids in a "quiet activity" and count it a miracle the kids settle down quickly.
Then it is time to light the Advent candles. Keith has asked only four kids to help with the wreath, but when he calls me, at least six other kids come along to "help". In the confusion, as I am helping the designated four candle lighters, my hair catches on fire!
I put the flames out quickly, apologizing for the smell of burned hair (a burnt offering to the Lord???) and continue guiding little hands and bodies in the chaos of children still wanting to cluster close with lit candles in hand. Finally my small hoard and I return to the tables where I keep them fairly occupied through Keith's sermon in English, and again in James' (a friend/helper/volunteer) extended translation of the sermon into Inupiat.
When we get to the singing of Silent Night in both Inupiat and English, all four verses, I have a three-year-old in my lap and a little boy next to me, who manages somehow, during the third verse, to catch the cardboard holder of his candle on fire. He drops the whole thing to the floor, yelling "I'm on fire!" Keith stomps out the flame and another "near miss" on this holy night is extinguished.
After the service we gather around the cake I've made to celebrate Jesus' birth. We sing Happy Birthday to Jesus...but this year I make a last-minute executive decision NOT to put candles on the cake.
As I reflected on the holy chaos of this Christmas Eve, at the Chapel of the Mountains, I pondered about the first Christmas. We imagine a tranquil scene of animals and shepherds gathered around the holy family; but after last night I am imagining a lot more chaos surrounded our baby that first holy night of his birth.
Keith and I have had a lot of discouraging weeks in our ministry this fall as we've wondered if anything hopeful will happen or endure here. But our adventure in worship with children last night somehow reassures me that in the midst of life's chaos, we can trust that Christ continues to be born anew, even when, and where, we don't think it new life is happening. We are just called to keep lighting candles and putting out fires.
We have to trust God with the rest. Christmas joy and hope to you this day!
Love,
Sally