I had an odd experience at Christmas Eve service last night. After the first song, a young woman (I guessed in her late teens) read a poem, which at first I didn't like. It sounded too touchy-feely, as if the wonder of the Incarnation was an excuse to celebrate ourselves. I also grumbled in my heart against this young woman reading it. An older person would have read with more authority, I thought. Then the poem did call us to remember that we, with our imperfections, are chosen by God, and we should present our imperfections to him and ask for his help.
Then I realized my grumbling about the youthfulness of the woman reading was in error as well. Mary was about that age (perhaps younger?) when she was chosen to become the mother of the Son of God. But I grumbled at someone so young being given such a small role as reading a poem from the pulpit in a service. I still have things to learn yet. But even so, God is with me, to help me do better than I would on my own.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
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