What Fighter Jets Taught Me About Christmas

I did not preach the Sunday before Christmas. Instead, our worship was a special music-filled event presented by our choir and instrumentalists.

The service began with our handbell choir ringing "Silent Night." At the first note, I was ready to be transported to a heavenly realm for a wonderful out-of-this-world experience. But then something happened that kept me firmly rooted in this world.

A low, distant rumbling was heard that grew louder and louder until it drowned out the handbells. A fighter jet from nearby Long Beach airport had just taken off and was flying directly above the church. The pews themselves shook with the deafening noise, and though we could see the handbells, we could not hear them.

The sound of the jet faded away, and the bells could once again be heard. However, fighter jets usually travel in pairs, and sure enough, a second earth-shaking roar filled the sanctuary and again kept us from hearing "Silent Night."

Once that jet passed, the song was all but over.  The service continued; more songs and music were heard, as well as more sounds from outside the sanctuary. Traffic. Sirens.

I was in a sour mood. Instead of being transported to a heavenly realm by wonderful out-of-this-world music, the thunderous interruption at the start of our worship, and the other unwanted noises that continued, did not allow my mind to escape this world.

It wasn't until halfway through the service that a thought occurred to me. Maybe Christmas, I thought, isn't about being transported to a heavenly realm. After all, 2,000 years ago, God didn't choose to take the faithful out of this world. Instead, God chose to come down to the world, to dwell among the people, to share all the worldly experiences humanity deals with. At Jesus's birth, there were angels singing, but also sheep bleating and cows mooing. (Try imagining the sound of a cow mooing in your ear while your child is born; not very romantic or idyllic, is it?) Also, there was the distant (and perhaps not so distant) sound of Roman soldiers marching through the streets.

The beauty of Christmas, I realized, isn't that we are taken out of our world and all its troubles. The beauty of Christmas is found in the fact that God chooses to dwell with us, in the midst of this world and all its troubles.

Worship ended, and I was filled with joy, a joy that was perhaps greater than it would have been if I had felt transported to a heavenly realm, because I was reminded that God is here in this world, with us - with me - working to bring wholeness to a world that is troubled, but still good.