12 Things We All Need to Hear on Christmas Eve

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Christmas Eve Services are sacred and joyful occasions. Churches and chapels fill with familiar carols and flickering candles, but they also fill with people carrying complex stories—joy and grief, gratitude and loss, faith and questions. On this holy night, words matter. What people hear can steady a weary heart or open a door to hope.

Over the years, I’ve been a part of dozens of Christmas Eve services, most of which have been inspiring and encouraging. I’ve also been to a few that were…Well, let’s just say they were lacking.

Here are twelve things people need to hear on Christmas Eve—truths that echo from the original Christmas story and still speak powerfully today.

1. You are welcome here. Christmas Eve is not a private gathering for insiders. It is a wide-open invitation. Whether someone comes weekly or once a year, confident or uncertain, hopeful or hurting, the message is the same: You belong.

2. “Unto us a child is born.” Most importantly, we need to hear the scripture story. The Christ who was born in Bethlehem is God’s gift for you, for me, and for all of us. The good news is not for a select group of people, but for all people from all nations, all races, and all walks of life.

3. “Fear not!” The first words spoken by the angel on the first Christmas were not instructions or expectations—they were reassurance. Fear not. Those words still matter in a world anxious about health, relationships, finances, violence, and the future. Christmas begins with comfort.

4. Christmas brings good news…tidings of great joy. This joy of Christmas is not shallow cheer or forced happiness. It is good news that God has not abandoned the world. Joy is possible even when circumstances are difficult because God has “become flesh and moved into the neighborhood” (John 1:14 MSG)

5. It’s okay to feel joy and sorrow at the same time. For many, Christmas is layered with grace and grief. Christmas Eve gives permission to hold both realities at once. You don’t have to choose between honesty and hope. The manger holds space for both.

6. God meets us exactly where we are. The Christmas story unfolds not in a palace, but in borrowed space. God did not wait for ideal conditions. In the same way, God meets us not where we wish we were, but right where we are.

7. You are not alone. Emmanuel means “God with us.” Christmas is the announcement that God has chosen presence over distance. Emmanuel is not an abstract idea; it is a promise that we are accompanied through all of life, including uncertainty, grief, joy, and change.

8. God comes near to us, even in messy and uncertain circumstances. The birth of Jesus happened amid disruption, displacement, and danger. That should comfort us. God is not deterred by our chaos. Divine love enters the world as it is, not as we wish it to be.

9. You can experience the peace of Christ, even if every conflict isn’t resolved. Peace does not require that everything be fixed. The peace Christ brings is deeper than resolution—it is the steady assurance of God’s nearness in the midst of unresolved tensions.

10. The darkness will not have the final word. The Christmas star that guided those seeking the Christ child reminds us that night may surround the nativity, but it does not overcome it. Christmas declares that light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot extinguish it. This is not denial of hardship; it is defiance of despair.

11. The birth narrative is just the beginning. The story does not end at the manger. It continues through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and it continues still. God is at work in the world and in our lives, shaping a story not yet finished.

12. Like Mary, we can ponder and treasure these things in our hearts. Christmas Eve does not demand immediate understanding or action. It invites reflection. Wonder. Quiet trust. Sometimes the holiest response is simply to hold the mystery close and let it work on us over time.

Christmas Eve is not about having all the answers. It is about receiving a gift. A child born in humility. A love that embraces us unconditionally. A light that shines gently but persistently into the darkest places.

These are the things people need to hear, not just on Christmas Eve, but in the days that follow as the Light of Christmas helps to navigate the daily grind of life.

12 Things a Pastor Should Not Say at a Christmas Eve Service

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Christmas Eve is one of my favorite services of the year. As a pastor, I’ve had a few more verbal gaffes than I care to admit. It’s a busy season for everyone, including church staff.

For some, in addition to getting ready for one of the most well-attended services of the year, the service falls on a day when the church office is closed, meaning that your usual team of workers is not present to assist with the preparations. And it’s the final week of the church year, which for most churches means it’s the highest “giving” week of the year.

In my experience, Christmas Eve services have the feel of a family reunion because so many former members, extended family members, and new family members are back home.

Yet Christmas Eve worship is also a sacred time. It is one of the few times each year when the sanctuary is filled with longtime members, occasional attenders, visitors, skeptics, children, and people quietly carrying grief or other heavy emotions. Candles glow, carols summon treasured memories, poinsettias adorn sanctuaries and chapels, and souls arrive with high expectations. Because the moment matters so much, words matter, perhaps more than on any other night of the church year.

With that in mind, here are 12 things a pastor should probably not say at a Christmas Eve service. I offer these from a wellspring of experience, a pastoral heart, and deep respect for the moment.

  1. “I see a lot of unfamiliar faces tonight.” Visitors don’t want to be called out or singled out; they simply prefer to be welcomed. Christmas Eve is about hospitality, creating a place and space where everyone is welcomed like family.
  2. “I promise this sermon will be short… well, shorter than usual.” This is not the night to preach a lengthy message. Let your sermon be well-prepared and appropriately brief, without commentary about the brevity.
  3. “You all know the words to these carols, so you won’t need your hymnals.”
    Familiarity varies, and carols are meant to invite participation, not test memory. If you have attendees who are new to the church, new to the faith, and perhaps even new to the celebration of Christmas, consider that a gift. You may also have a few members with memory issues. Don’t make them uncomfortable by making them feel like they don’t belong if they don’t know all the words to the songs.
  4. “I didn’t have much time to prepare.” Even if this is true, this confession doesn’t belong in a holy moment. Christmas Eve deserves thoughtful preparation. And from my experience, if you didn’t prepare well, your congregation will know it soon enough.
  5. “You all know the story of Jesus’ birth so well that there’s no need to read the scripture tonight.” The story never grows old, and scripture never becomes optional, especially on this night. When I prepare for sermons, I read the text from a variety of translations. But on Christmas Eve, I read the Christmas story from the translation most familiar to the congregation.
  6. “On this very night, 2,025 years ago, Jesus was born in a manger.” Most worshippers are aware that December 25 is the date designated to celebrate Jesus’ birth, and not the actual date of Jesus’ birth. Most scholars and historians suggest that Jesus was likely born in the spring. Regardless, there is not suggestion of a date for the birth of the Christ child in scripture. Intellectual integrity matters. Christmas Eve celebrates mystery and meaning, not questionable calendaring.
  7. “Kids, you need to know that Jesus is real and Santa is not.” Christmas Eve is not the time to resolve cultural debates, or to risk breaking tender trust. How parents deal with the legend of St. Nicolas and stories of toys being delivered should be left to them, and not a pastor with an impulse to set the record straight.
  8. “I won’t mention politics… but since I brought it up…” Some nights are meant to be mercifully politics-free. This is one of them. We live in an age where almost anything, including “love your neighbor,” can be perceived as political. But partisan political jabs do not communicate “good news of great joy which shall be for all the people” (Luke 2:10).
  9. “This is my favorite service, except for Easter.” Ranking holy days is unnecessary. Each has its own meaning and its own place in the story. It may be more helpful to say, “This is one of my favorite times of the year.”
  10. “I sure wish we had a nursery tonight because the kids are making too much noise.” Children are not interruptions to worship; they are signs of life within it. As many churches lament the lack of children and young families, one of the worst things a pastor can do is to complain about the presence of children.
  11. “Some of you are behind on your giving, and tonight is a great opportunity to catch up.” Because the Christmas Eve service occurs during the opportune season for “end-of-the-year giving,” pastors can be tempted to be highly proactive in promoting this stewardship moment. While it’s okay to remind the congregation of giving opportunities, it’s not okay to make your Christmas Eve service sound like an infomercial for the church budget. I prefer to put an end-of-the-year giving promo in the printed program, and not to mention it during the service.
  12. “I’ll see some of you next Sunday, and some of you I probably won’t see until Easter.” Christmas Eve is not the time for guilt trips. Gratitude is always a better invitation. Plan the quality of your service and calibrate your words so that less frequent attenders will be inspired, even compelled, to participate more frequently, without being belittled.

Christmas Eve worship is not about perfection; it’s about presence. It is about creating space for wonder, for mystery, for memory, for hope, and for good news that is like light breaking into the darkness. The best Christmas Eve services allow the story itself to do the heavy lifting, through scripture, song, silence, and candlelight.

After all, the most important words spoken on Christmas Eve were not delivered from a pulpit at all, but whispered through angels and sung into the night: “Do not be afraid… for unto you is born this day a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”

And really, that is more than enough to say.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who serves as a leadership coach and columnist for the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife reside on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Curious About Christmas: 10 Things You Might Want to Know

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Christmas is one of the most beloved and most familiar celebrations in the world. However, some wonder about the cultural and spiritual reasons behind the various traditions we embrace during this season.

Throughout my years of serving as a pastor, I’ve been asked quite a few questions about Christmas. Some were mentioned out of mere curiosity, and others were asked with a profound sense of theological inquiry. I readily knew the answer to a few of the questions, and others I had to investigate.

Here are ten of the more common Christmas questions, with answers that may surprise you.

1. What is the most popular Christmas carol? Across cultures and denominations, “Silent Night” is widely regarded as the most beloved Christmas carol in the world. First sung in 1818 in a small Austrian church, it has been translated into hundreds of languages and is cherished for its simplicity, reverence, and peaceful theology. Its enduring appeal lies in how poetically it tells the Christmas story.

2. When did the celebration of Christmas first begin in the United States? The first Christmas celebration in the US occurred in 1539 in Tallahassee, Florida at Mission San Luis. Christmas was not widely celebrated in early America. In fact, Puritans in New England actively opposed it, viewing it as unbiblical and overly indulgent. Christmas gradually gained acceptance in the 1800s and became a federal holiday in 1870, thanks in part to changing cultural attitudes and waves of European immigrants.

3. When did our current representation of Santa Claus begin? The modern image of Santa Claus emerged in the 19th century. Clement Clarke Moore’s 1823 poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” (better known as “’Twas the Night Before Christmas”) shaped Santa as a jolly, gift-giving figure. Later, illustrator Thomas Nast and 20th-century advertising (especially Coca-Cola campaigns) cemented the red-suited Santa we recognize today.

4. Are Christmas trees evil? How did the Christmas tree become a part of the celebration? No. Christmas trees are not evil or satanic. The tradition of decorating evergreen trees began in Germany during the 16th century. German immigrants brought the custom to America in the 1800s. Evergreens symbolized life in the midst of winter, which celebrates hope and light entering a dark world.

5. What is the highest-grossing Christmas movie of all time? The highest grossing Christmas movie of all time:  When the Grinch Stole Christmas at $260 million.  (Jim Carrey version).  2nd is Polar Express at $183 million.

6. When was Jesus born? It is highly unlikely that Jesus was born on December 25. The Bible does not give an exact date for Jesus’ birth. Most scholars agree that Jesus was likely born between 6 and 4 B.C. Jesus was more likely born in the spring. The December 25 celebration developed later, which was a way to emphasize Christ as the “Light of the World” rather than pinpointing a historical date.

7. How many wise men were there? Many assume that there were 3 Wise Men since there were 3 gifts, but the Bible doesn’t provide the number of Wise Men who made the journey.  The Wise Men did not see the “babe in a manger” because they arrived after he was presented in the temple…anywhere from 13 days to about 2 years following the birth of Jesus.

8. Why was Jesus born in Bethlehem? Bethlehem was the city of King David, giving the story messianic significance. The prophet Micah foretold that a ruler would come from Bethlehem (Micah 5:2). Jesus’ birth there highlights God’s tendency to work through humble places to accomplish divine purposes.

9. Why do some people use “Xmas” instead of “Christmas”? “Xmas” is not a modern attempt to remove Christ from Christmas. The “X” comes from the Greek letter Chi, the first letter in Christos (Christ). Early Christians used it as a sacred abbreviation long before it appeared on greeting cards.

10. What does the word “holiday” actually mean? The word “holiday” is a good and positive word that comes from holy day. It originally referred to days set apart for religious observance. While the meaning has broadened, Christmas remains a true holy day, a festive occasion marked by carols and candles, worship and wonder, generosity and joy.

Christmas is more than a season of tradition. Our celebration of Christmas originates from a story of good news layered with history, meaning, and mystery. Asking questions doesn’t diminish the celebration. Rather, questions deepen our appreciation and understanding.

And at the heart of every answer is the same enduring truth: “The Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood.” (John 1:14 MSG)

(This column is a revision of a Wednesday night devotional I shared at the First Baptist Church of Pensacola in December 2015.)

The Longest Night: Darkness Does Not Have the Final Word

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

The winter solstice arrives quietly. No banners are announcing it, no sudden shift we can see with the naked eye. Yet it marks a profound turning point. On this day, darkness reaches its peak. Night extends longer than it will all year. And yet, we endure the long night because we are confident the light will return.

Scripture gives language to this paradox. The prophet Isaiah declares, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined” (Isaiah 9:2). The promise is not that darkness never comes, but that darkness never has the final word.

Astronomically, the solstice occurs when the earth’s axis tilts farthest from the sun, producing the least daylight in the northern hemisphere. Spiritually, many of us recognize this pattern in our own lives. Seasons of grief, uncertainty, exhaustion, or disappointment can feel endless, as if the night keeps extending on with no hint of morning. We wonder if the darkness will ever loosen its grip.

The solstice reminds us that even darkness has a limit.

One of the most important lessons of the shortest day is that the change we experience is seldom sudden and dramatic. Change occurs gradually. After the solstice, the days do not suddenly feel brighter. The next morning looks much like the one before it. But minute by minute, day by day, the balance begins to shift. Light returns so slowly that it is almost missed until suddenly it is undeniable.

That is often how hope works. That is how healing works. That is how God works.

During World War II, as London endured the relentless bombing of the Blitz, citizens learned to live with extended blackouts. Nights were long and fearful. Yet historians note that morale began to change not when the bombing immediately stopped, but when people sensed that the tide of the war had turned. Victory was not yet visible, but direction mattered. The turning point preceded the outcome.

The winter solstice is such a turning point.

It also reminds us that darkness is not a failure. Winter is not a mistake in the calendar. Trees stripped bare are not dead; they are conserving energy. Fields lying fallow are not wasted; they are resting. In the same way, seasons of stillness or sorrow in our lives are not evidence that something has gone wrong. They may be necessary pauses as strength is being rebuilt and faith is quietly deepening.

The psalmist understood this rhythm when he wrote, “Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Morning does not deny the night; it simply follows it.

The spiritual writer Henri Nouwen once observed, “Hope is the willingness to keep living in the midst of despair.” The solstice embodies that kind of hope, not naïve optimism, but a steady trust that light is on its way even when the night feels longest.

This matters especially during the holidays, when joy and grief often coexist. The season can amplify loss as much as celebration. The shortest day of the year gives us permission to acknowledge the heaviness we carry while still leaning toward hope. We do not have to rush our healing or force cheer where sorrow remains. We can wait with expectation.

Perhaps the most enduring lesson of the solstice is this: light does not need permission from darkness to shine. Darkness does not decide when the sun will rise. Fear does not determine the ending of the story. Loss does not cancel renewal.

The solstice is a hinge in the year, a reminder that when it feels like we have reached the limits of endurance, something new is already beginning. The night may still be long, but the direction has changed.

And that, perhaps, is the gift of the shortest day of the year, not the absence of darkness, but the assurance that darkness will not last forever.

Carved in the Desert: A Camel Bone Nativity

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Every year as Advent approaches, our home fills with familiar scenes of the manger. Some families collect ornaments; others add to their array of wreaths or village houses. For us, the season is marked by the careful unpacking of a growing collection of nativities, each one crafted in a different style, shaped by a different culture, and offering its own unique lens on the birth of Christ.

Our newest addition arrived with a story all its own: a nativity made of camel bone, brought back from Egypt when my wife visited friends there last year. Delicately carved, smooth to the touch, and striking in its simplicity, it immediately captured our imagination, not only for its beauty, but for the tradition it represents.

For centuries, artisans in Egypt and throughout the Middle East have worked with camel bone, a durable byproduct of animals that have been long essential to desert life. Camel bone carving developed out of necessity and respect, using every part of the animal rather than wasting it. Over time, the craft became a form of folk art, passed down through generations, often depicting religious scenes, daily life, and symbols of faith. In Christian communities across the region, camel bone became a meaningful medium for carving crosses, rosaries, and nativity scenes—quiet testimonies of faith formed from the resources of the land.

That connection feels especially fitting. Camels themselves appear throughout the biblical narrative, symbols of endurance, provision, and long journeys across difficult terrain. A nativity carved from camel bone feels rooted in the geography and texture of the biblical world, echoing the landscape in which the Christmas story first unfolded.

Our growing collection tells its own global story. We have a wooden nativity carved by a Jewish cabinet maker in Birmingham, an echo of Joseph’s trade. The figures are sturdy, as if shaped by hands that know the weight of purpose.

There is a blown glass nativity, fragile and luminous, capturing the wonder of the night when heaven bent low to earth.

We treasure a ceramic nativity created by my wife’s mother, its colors warm and familiar, infused with the love and legacy of family.

And on our tree hangs a pewter ornament depicting the nativity scene—small, durable, and timeless.

Now, standing quietly on our bookshelf, the camel bone nativity from Egypt adds yet another voice to this beautiful chorus. Each piece comes from a different place and perspective, yet they all tell the same story: God choosing to enter our world in the most unexpected and humble way.

As they gather together, these nativities preach a quiet sermon. They remind us that the Christmas story is not confined to a single style, language, or land. It has traveled across borders and generations, finding expression in wood, glass, ceramic, metal—and now, camel bone.

This diverse collection testifies to the global reach of the gospel and the countless cultures shaped by the message of Emmanuel, “God with us.” It also invites us to see the manger with fresh eyes—eyes that recognize that the good news of great joy truly is for all people.

In a season when the world can feel divided, our nativities stand together as a small but powerful reminder: the Child born in Bethlehem still draws the nations to the greatest story ever told—one story, one culture, one family tradition at a time.

Fear Not: Anxiety Doesn’t Get the Final Word

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment


Advent Devotional
Scripture: Isaiah 41:10

In 1933, at the height of the Great Depression, President Franklin D. Roosevelt offered words that steadied a shaken nation: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” Those words did not end the economic crisis, but they did something equally important—they reminded people that fear must not be allowed to paralyze the soul.

Centuries earlier, God spoke a remarkably similar message through the prophet Isaiah to a people who were discouraged, displaced, and afraid. To them, the Lord said: “I am the Lord, your God, who grasp your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not, I will help you.’” These are not the words of a distant deity issuing commands from afar. They are the words of a God who draws near—who takes people by the hand like a loving parent guiding a frightened child through the dark.

Isaiah goes on to paint vivid images of renewal and restoration. He describes deserts transformed into lush gardens, rivers flowing through dry land, and barren places bursting with life. These are not merely poetic flourishes; they are promises. They testify to what God can do when hope feels exhausted and the landscape of our lives seems stripped bare. God specializes in bringing life where we see only loss.

We catch glimpses of that promise in our own time. After hurricanes or tornadoes, entire neighborhoods can appear devastated…homes flattened, trees uprooted, familiar landmarks erased. At first, the destruction feels overwhelming. Yet slowly, almost imperceptibly, rebuilding begins. New houses rise. Trees are replanted. Life returns. What once looked like total ruin becomes a place of renewal and hope. This is the kind of transformation Isaiah envisions when God promises to make “rivers flow on the bare heights.”

The spiritual writer Thomas Merton once observed, “Hope is not something that comes with proof. It is not seen. It is given in the dark, when everything else is doubtful.” Isaiah’s words are precisely that kind of hope—a gift offered not when circumstances are ideal, but when fear and uncertainty press in most heavily.

Advent is a season that meets us in that very space. It does not deny the darkness of the world or the weight we carry. Instead, it announces that God has not abandoned us. God is still grasping our hand. God is still turning deserts into gardens. God is still at work, quietly and faithfully, even when we cannot yet see the results.

So whatever burdens or anxieties you carry today, hear this ancient promise as if it were spoken directly to you: “Fear not, I will help you.” This assurance is not just for Israel long ago. It is for us here and now, as we wait and watch for the coming of Christ—our Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Prayer:
Gracious God, when fear grips our hearts, anxiety invades our thoughts, and the future feels uncertain, remind us that you are near. Take us by the hand, steady our steps, and renew our hope as we wait for the coming of your Son. Help us trust your presence in the darkness and your promise of new life. We place our fears in your care and rest in your unfailing love. Amen.

The Ongoing Challenge of Learning Contentment

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Of all the spiritual disciplines, I think that contentment may be the toughest to learn. The challenge is ongoing.

It isn’t that I don’t want to be content—I do. It’s that we live in a world wired to keep us restless. A consumerist economy whispers that the next upgrade, the newest version, or the latest device will finally deliver satisfaction. At the same time, my own temperament nudges me toward constant evaluation: fix what is broken, mend what is fractured, restore what has fallen apart. Those instincts aren’t wrong, but they can easily pull my soul out of rhythm.

That’s why the apostle Paul’s words feel both comforting and challenging: “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances” (Philippians 4:11). Contentment, Paul reminds us, is something learned—not instantly acquired, not naturally absorbed, but gradually shaped through trust and practice.

G. K. Chesterton observed, “True contentment is a real, active virtue—not a passive or timid acceptance of things as they are.” His words help me remember that contentment isn’t complacency. It is the courageous decision to embrace this moment with gratitude rather than wait for the perfect one.

Many people now take pictures with their phones using filters—adjusting brightness, warmth, and contrast to create a more polished version of reality. Contentment works in the opposite direction. Instead of filtering our lives to hide imperfections, contentment allows us to see clearly, without distortion. It shifts the focus from what is missing to what is meaningful, helping us recognize beauty in what we already have.

At its core, contentment is a commitment to simplicity. It rearranges my priorities so that my mission becomes primary, and the tangible resources in my portfolio become tools rather than trophies—means rather than measurements. When I practice contentment, life no longer feels like an expanding inventory but an emerging story.

Something transformative happens in that shift. Relationships rise to the forefront, while possessions return to their rightful place. People become essential; stuff becomes expendable. My life becomes more like a conduit than a reservoir—a channel through which blessings flow freely into the lives of others, not a storage unit where blessings are archived, counted, and guarded.

To live with contentment, I must return again and again to one foundational truth: my self-worth is neither inflated nor deflated by my net worth. My value does not hinge on what I own, what I accomplish, or what others think of me. My identity is rooted in something deeper and more enduring—worth that was instilled and endowed by my Creator.

Contentment, then, is not resignation. It is not passive acceptance. It is the steady confidence that God’s grace is sufficient in this moment, this season, this chapter—whatever it may hold. It is the quiet courage to trust that I already have what I need to live gratefully and faithfully today.

I’m still learning this discipline. Perhaps you are, too. But each day offers a new lesson, a fresh reminder, and a renewed opportunity to loosen our grip on accumulation and tighten our embrace of gratitude.

“Be Near Me, Lord Jesus”: 10 Christmas Carol Lyrics That Speak into Our Grief

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Christmas is often a season of joy, but for many, it can also bring waves of grief as we remember loved ones who are no longer with us. Often their absence speaks more loudly at Christmas.

Perhaps you can identify with the grieving individual who said, “I see you in the lights on the tree and the ornaments we used to hang each year. I hear you in the carols we loved to listen to together. I miss you so much this year, but I feel you all around.” 

Music radiates a therapeutic quality. For those who are grieving, Christmas carols go a step further. These enduring songs can speak comfort, hope, and peace to an aching soul.

If you are feeling a heavy sense of loss this Christmas season, lines from these 10 carols can remind you of God’s presence and promises even as you navigate your grief:

1. “The thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices.” (from O Holy Night) In moments of weariness and grief, these words remind us that hope can restore and renew our spirits. The birth of Christ is a beacon of renewal, bringing joy even to heavy hearts.

2. “Be near me, Lord Jesus; I ask Thee to stay close by me forever, and love me, I pray.” (from Away in a Manger) A tender prayer for God’s nearness, this stanza offers reassurance that Jesus is with us, even in our deepest sorrow.

3. “Peace on earth and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.” (from Hark! The Herald Angels Sing) These words proclaim peace—not just in the world, but in our hearts. They remind us that God’s grace sustains us, offering comfort when grief feels overwhelming.

4. “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” (from O Little Town of Bethlehem) Grief often amplifies our anxiety about the future, but this lyric reminds us that Christ’s birth intersects with our hopes and our fears, offering peace and reassurance.

5. “O rest beside the weary road and hear the angels sing.” (from It Came Upon the Midnight Clear) This carol reminds us to pause and find rest for our weary souls. In our grief, we can find comfort in the message of peace and hope proclaimed by the angels.

6. “Then pealed the bells more loud and deep: ‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.'” (from I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day) Written during a time of personal sorrow, this carol especially speaks to those who feel abandoned in their grief. It reminds us that God is present and actively working for our good.

7. “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.” (from Silent Night) The serene imagery of this carol invites us to embrace stillness, trusting in the calm and brightness that God’s presence brings, even in the midst of pain.

8. “Let every heart prepare Him room.” (from Joy to the World) Grief can leave an emptiness in our hearts, but this stanza invites us to make room for Christ, who fills us with peace, hope, and joy.

9. “Born to set Thy people free; from our fears and sins release us, let us find our rest in Thee.” (from Come Thou Long Expected Jesus) This carol expresses a deep longing for freedom from life’s burdens and rest in Christ’s presence.

10. “Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.” (from O Come, O Come, Emmanuel) This ancient carol speaks directly to those in sorrow, promising that God is with us. Emmanuel—God with us—is a powerful reminder that we are never alone.

Christmas carols are not just songs of celebration; they are also prayers, petitions, and promises of God’s love and presence. For those grieving, these words offer a unique blend of comfort and hope, pointing us to the truth that Christ came to bring peace and healing to a broken world.

Don’t hide during the holidays. Light the candles, prepare the meal, and sing the carols. Alan Wolfelt suggests, “During your time of grief, the very rituals of the holidays can help you survive them.”

This Christmas, may the timeless words of these carols bring you comfort, reminding you that light often shines brightest in the shadows.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and columnist with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Creek in northeast Alabama.)

Even Toys Have a Story to Tell at Christmas

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Music is a central part of our Christmas celebration. Carols, concerts, chorales, and cantatas all enhance our journey to the manger. But there’s something extraordinarily uplifting about hearing the voices of children singing.

On Sunday morning, the First Kids Choir of First Baptist Church of Gadsden brought sparkle, color, and childlike joy to the sanctuary as they presented The Carol of the Toys: A Christmas Story, a delightful musical written and published by Semsen Music. With lively melodies, playful characters, and a meaningful storyline, the presentation filled the room with both laughter and reverence.

The sole purpose of the church isn’t to have fun. The church exists to worship God, share the good news, nurture faith, build community, and serve God by serving others. But sometimes we need to be reminded that doing the work of the church—and sharing the good news—can also be a lot of fun.

This musical was fun. It imagines a world where toys come to life—dolls, stuffed animals, candy canes, a robot, a racecar, and more—and each one joins a whimsical search for the true meaning of Christmas. Their journey leads them far beyond the wrapping paper and bows as they search for the missing member of their menagerie: the baby Jesus.

One upbeat number featured the toys realizing there must be more to Christmas than decorations, tapping out the cheerful line, “We’re searching for the meaning—something bright, something true!” Another musical moment offered a gentle reminder as the chorus softly sang, “Follow the star… it will lead you to the King.” These brief refrains helped guide the toys—and the congregation—toward the heart of the nativity story.

Threaded throughout the musical was a theme simple enough for children to grasp yet profound enough for adults to ponder: Even toys have a story to tell at Christmas.

And what a story they told. Through their colorful costumes, energetic voices, and spirited dancing (yes, these Baptists can dance), the children conveyed a message that resonated far beyond the stage. Their performance reminded us that the Christmas story is not bound to a single age group, culture, or generation. It speaks through Scripture and song and—even more delightfully—through a cast of animated toys brought to life by children who believe in the story they’re telling.

The musical reached its apex when the holy family arrived, one by one. First came a melodious Mary, also searching for the baby Jesus. Then a jiving Joseph entered, whose dance steps could put the most devout Pentecostal to shame, joining Mary and the children in their search. When the Christ child finally appeared in a tethered gift box—symbolizing that he had been lost or overlooked in the hustle and bustle of Christmas—the toys celebrated that the child had been found and the nativity was complete.

The musical concluded with the toys gathered around the manger, singing that Christmas is ultimately about God’s love made visible in Jesus. The final moments echoed with wonder as the children sang about the joy found “in a tiny child who changes everything.”

In a season often crowded with shopping lists and schedules, The Carol of the Toys offered a refreshing reset—an invitation to slow down, listen, and rediscover the miracle at the center of it all. It also issued a gentle reminder not to leave Jesus behind in the clutter.

This Christmas, may we remember that even toys have a story to tell—and every good Christmas story leads us to Jesus.

At the First Baptist Church of Gadsden, it was the joyful voices of children who pointed us all toward that hope, that light, and that love.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and columnist with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Parable of the Stolen Baby Jesus

On By barrysnotesLeave a comment

Every year, families, churches, and communities across the country set up nativity scenes in homes, along roadsides, in front of churches, and in town squares. These displays serve as seasonal reminders of the Christmas story, which includes the journey to Bethlehem, the birth of baby Jesus, and the presence of the angels and shepherds.

During my first Christmas serving as pastor of First Baptist Church in Pensacola, I learned that Eliot and Frances Dobelstein, long-time members of the congregation, had faithfully displayed a nativity scene on the southwest corner of the church lawn every Advent since 1972.

One afternoon, Eliot and Frances stopped by my office to share the story behind the display and the challenges they faced in maintaining it. Because the manger scene sat along a busy street, it often became an easy target for mischief. Over the years, various characters were defaced, rearranged, or occasionally went missing. Shepherds and wise men would disappear, only to be discovered days later in odd places. But the most frequent victim was the baby Jesus. More than once, someone had plucked the baby from the manger, leaving only an empty trough between Mary and Joseph.

Despite these frustrations, Eliot never gave up. Whenever a piece went missing, he replaced it. He secured the figures as best he could and made extra trips past the display to discourage would-be pranksters.

But in 2007, to prevent the baby Jesus from being taken yet again, Eliot decided enough was enough. Determined to prevent another “messianic kidnapping,” he wrapped a sturdy chain around the baby Jesus and fastened it with a padlock. To conceal the chain, he draped a worn blanket over the figure, giving the appearance of swaddling clothes.

“No one’s taking Jesus this year,” he thought confidently.

But he was wrong.

A few days before Christmas, Eliot walked into the church office looking more discouraged than I had ever seen him. The baby Jesus was gone—again.

Sam Solomon, our maintenance supervisor, and I followed Eliot to the scene. There, in the empty manger, lay the broken remains of the chain. Someone had come with bolt cutters, snipped through the links, and made off with Jesus once more.

For the first time, Eliot looked genuinely defeated. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I don’t know what else to do,” he said.

Still unwilling to leave the manger completely empty, he placed a small bundle of hay in the trough and covered it with the same blanket—creating the impression that the baby Jesus was still there. But Eliot, Sam, and a few staff members knew the truth: this year, the manger held no Christ child.

Yet the story wasn’t over.

When Sam arrived at church early on January 2—the first day the office reopened after the New Year’s holiday—he noticed something propped against the glass doors of the atrium. He left it there for me to see when I arrived a short time later.

At first glance, it looked like a forgotten doll. Perhaps a child had dropped it or a neighborhood dog had dragged it there. Maybe one of our homeless friends had slept by the door and left it behind.

But as I approached, I recognized it immediately. It was the missing baby Jesus, with a folded note was taped to its chest.

Scrawled in uneven handwriting were these words:

“I took this before Christmas, and I have not been able to sleep much since then. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. So I am bringing it back home.”

I stood there for a moment, letting the words sink in. I hadn’t expected that.

I hated that Jesus had been stolen, especially after all of Eliot’s efforts to secure the display. Yet somehow, I found comfort in the return of that simple plastic figure—the one meant to represent the Savior of the world.

After sharing the news with our staff, I called Eliot.

“I thought you’d want to know,” I said. “The stolen baby Jesus has been returned.”

I could hear the relief in his voice.

Later that day, as I reflected on what had happened, I found myself wrestling with an unexpected question: What do you do with a stolen Jesus?

And then it struck me. The only thing you can do with a misplaced Jesus is bring him back to his rightful place in your life story.

Perhaps you have mis-taken Jesus, and you need to bring Jesus home to where he belongs.

Or maybe, you are the one who has wandered away, and this year, you are the one who needs to come home.