After the last note faded, and my dad, who was also a pastor, prayed the closing prayer, everyone gathered their jackets and bid each other good night and Merry Christmas. Our family, always the last to leave, would lock up the church and walk home in the dark. I don’t know if we always walked home after the Christmas Eve service. For all I remember it may have only happened once, but it stands out in my memory as a happy occasion. With the weight and responsibility of the worship service behind him, my dad seemed lighter and more present. Mom was full of Christmas secrets, and all of us kids were wild as chimps. There were extra cars in many of the driveways we passed, and lights were turned on in guest rooms that were dark the rest of the year. Once we were home, we jumped into our pajamas and hung our stockings. Then it was off to bed where we tried to fall asleep as quickly as we could because, we reasoned, that would make Christmas come all the sooner.

Over the years, God has done a work of grace in my life where He has given me a growing warmth of feeling for what Christmas truly signifies and not for those things that so captured my imagination as a little boy. Thank God for that! How fragile was that joy I knew as a little boy! How sturdy and indestructible is the one I enjoy now! It is altogether better and more abiding. In this message we will give thought to the JOY that was born at Christmas.