Christmas Lights, Pastoral Longevity, and Hope
Light Has Invaded the Dark
Friday night, December 1st, was the annual Christmas Tree Lighting in downtown Franklin, Tennessee. It’s a thing. A BIG thing. I’m Baptist, so my numbers are probably conflated, but I guess there were between 10,000-15,000 people in attendance. (This is not counting the 8,000 dogs.)
Being a pastor in Franklin going on 9 years now, I am always ecstatic to experience such a thing with the city. By “such a thing” I don’t mean I get ecstatic about being in the middle of a monster crowd for a couple of hours, or having to park 3 zip codes over and walking 16 miles to the event. The “such a thing” that delights me is the entire town coming together to be wowed by light. To see, in a split second, a darkness transform into a magnificent triangular brightness. I love the moment when the entire city of Franklin is transfixed on the darkness being invaded by thousands of electric illumines.
It reminds me that we are all hard-wired, deep within us, to be awestruck at light intruding on the dark. It’s Christmas. Seeing that many Franklinites “oooh” and ahhh” over “the light” brings me joy. . . and hope. Can you imagine the response when the Light of the World returns?
The tree lighting also reminded me of the richness of pastoral longevity. I’m one year shy of a decade at The Church at West Franklin. Walking around downtown Franklin with my wife and 10,000 others (and their dogs) brought me deep gratification. Every couple of minutes, we would run into people who call me pastor. People who’s stories I know. People I wrestle with God over while in the prayer closet. People who are experiencing the reality and presence of God on a daily basis. People who have had a hard year. People who text me encouragement. . . and prayer requests. People who gather every week to worship God. Souls of which I will have to give an account for. Some I was able to visit with for a moment. Others I only saw from a distance. My heart loves seeing people I have the honor and privilege to shepherd.
Why were they there at the tree lighting? The same reason I was: my wife made me. Haha. Just kidding (sort of). West Franklin members were there the same reason they (we) gather every Sunday. The light has invaded the dark. The light draws us upward. The darkness sprints away at light’s presence. We didn’t invent it. We can’t drum it up ourselves. It comes from outside of us. And when it comes, we “oooh” and “ahhh” that we, of all people, have been invaded with love.
That gives me hope.