Finding Faith
Comfortably slumped in an uncomfortable wooden chair, listening to the four young adults joyfully singing Christmas carols in the corner of the shelter cafeteria, I felt the first tear drop from my eye.
Surprised, it brought me out of the sleepy reverie I had been enjoying.
I sneakily reached up to wipe away the glistening track down my cheek before anyone could see it. … Only to find the solitary tear had turned into a dam break out of both eyes.
Finally, I gave in, and with “Away in a Manger” and “Silent Night” as the soundtrack, I had a good, cathartic cry, right there in the cafeteria. Not the bodyjerking, sobbing kind of cry. But the letit- freely-run-down-your-cheeks-quietly kind of cry. And it was great.
A guest at our shelter sitting next to me reached over and tapped me. “You OK there, pastor?” with a concerned look on his face.
Touched by his kindness, I shared, “I’m good. Just a lot today … but a good kind of a lot.”
As someone who is staying in the shelter, he understood. No more words needed.
It’s hard to describe the flood of emotions that overtook me in the moment. If you’ve never experienced shelter life, it may be challenging to understand.
But amidst the typical urgent fires of the day (there are always urgent fires in a shelter) that were replaying in my mind after another long day, I also was pleasantly reminiscing about the very joyful things that had happened that day too. (That too is commonplace in our world, balancing the heartbreakingly tragic things with extremely beautiful divine moments.)
A bit ragged and weary, there I contentedly sat, with the joyous sounds of Christmas music sung by ebullient young people washing over me, thinking, “This is Christmas.” … And that was the reason for the tears.
Sometimes in the midst of chaos at the shelter, people erupt with joy at the news they’ve been approved for an apartment. Then moments later, we’ll need to separate some guests who maybe aren’t thinking clearly and who’ve become a little heated.
Later the local police department will show up to play Santa for all the children who’ll be living in a shelter on Christmas. And then the day wraps up with four college-aged youth giving it their best to be heard over the din of a busy cafeteria.
Divinely glorious moments smashing directly into everyday, ordinary circumstances.
Just like when a Christ child is welcomed into the world amidst a busy barn, full of animals braying and kicking up straw.
And that is the essence of living into our faith, I think, accepting that very ordinary everyday things will just keep happening right around a new holy family who is welcoming a little boy who will grow up to forever change the course of creation.
Merry Christmas, my friends.
