Birmingham-Southern College Carol Service

Though my Alma mater closed this past May, we are keeping the annual Carol service tradition alive. It was my joy and privilege to sing in it in December of 2024.

I invite you to have a listen.

“This Gospel” of Radical Inclusion

Happy day of Epiphany!

Here’s a snapshot of Sandy when we were enjoying the Christmas lights at Calloway Gardens.

May the light shine and unfold for you the mystery of the ages, hidden in Christ and now revealed. Paul describes “this gospel” as one of radical inclusion (not just personal salvation) in Ephesians 3:5-10:

“In former generations this mystery was not made known to humankind, as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit: that is, the Gentiles have become fellow-heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel. Of this gospel I have become a servant according to the gift of God’s grace that was given to me by the working of his power. Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the Gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ, and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.”

The Four Christmas Words

It's occurred to me (after years of exploring the Christmas stories in the Bible every year) that if each unique gospel writer had one word for Christmas, they might be these words. May it bless you and your family during this holiest of weeks.

LINEAGE - Matthew's Christmas word might be just that, "lineage." Generally speaking, his gospel gift is summed up in his favorite phrase,"this was done in order to fulfill what was said by the prophets ..." His gift is to show us how Christmas, and Jesus in general, fulfills Old Testament longing. Unlike the other gospels, he starts with the genealogy of Jesus (outlining 14 generations from Abraham to David, 14 generations from David to the Babylonian exile, and 14 generations from the exile to the Messiah). His point is it was clearly the plan of God that Christ would come and fulfill the prophecy of being a Messiah from the house and lineage of King David. He quotes scripture about how the virgin birth fulfilled prophecy. Unlike the other gospels, he also has the story of the magi (I hate to mess with your Christmas decor, but we don't know that there were three of them and they didn't make it to the manger, they came to the house they were staying as late as a couple of years later). Again, this is about fulfillment of prophecy. Matthew's Christmas story is all about that.

LAUNCH - If Mark has a Christmas word, it might be "launch." Why? He launches right into the message of John the Baptist, who prepared the way for Jesus to show up in ministry. Yes, it's true ... he doesn't even talk about Christmas at all. This makes sense, in light of the general impetus of Mark. His favorite word in the gospel seems to be "immediately." Jesus is always going and doing, and the kingdom of God is ushering in. So it's not just that he launches into the message of John and Jesus without a single story about Christmas, he believes that Jesus is launching the kingdom of God into our midst without delay.

LOWLY - If Luke has a Christmas word, I suppose it would be "lowly." Ah, yes, most of the Christmas narrative is here in Luke, because of his general concern for the least, the last, and the lost ... for the oppressed and neglected (from woman to Gentiles to Samaritans, plus parables such as the lost sheep and the lost coin). It's no accident, then, that he would be the one to tell the story of the shepherds being visited by the angels, not to mention the details about the poverty and lack of influence of Joseph and Mary, and the fact that Jesus was born in a stable out back. All that is meant to point to something about God's favor for the poor and needy. Even the canticles (the songs of Elizabeth, Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon) are about both fulfillment of prophecy and about God's regard for the oppressed and the lowliness of his servants. For Luke, every aspect of the narrative is about this.

LOGOS - Well, if we are going to stay with the "L" theme it's obvious what John's Christmas word would be. It would be logos, the Greek New Testament word for, well, "word." He tells of Christmas as a poet, not a storyteller. We don't get from John details such as stables, local politics, or taxes, and there are no wise men or shepherds. Instead, it's rich and beautiful theology that has shaped our spirituality on every level. He starts out, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Theologically, he describes how Christ is the very word God spoke to set creation into being. He muses on how this life was the light that shines in the darkness, which will never overcome it. John the Baptist is a "witness to the light," Then he says, "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us," theologizing on the incarnation and the humanity/divinity of Christ. John's version of Christmas takes a deep theological plunge, even if it doesn't help with setting up your manger scene!

So, if you had a word for Christmas, what would yours be?

May you have a wonderful, wonder-full Christmas.

"The Hay that Heals" - St. Francis and the First Live Nativity

This is a written version of my second Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and candlelight circle. I shared this meditation on St. Francis by the manger scene outdoors.

Earlier tonight, we gathered virtually by livestream to ponder the scripture, enjoy the music, and explore the meditations of this holy season. We joined in the Great Thanksgiving at the table of grace. Now we gather outdoors to receive this blessed communion and create a candlelight circle. And we do so around this manger for a reason.

Have you heard the origins of the manger scene? The manger scene was created by St. Francis of Assisi.

Francis, who was born into merchant family in Assisi of modern-day Italy, rejected his family’s wealth and even cast off his expensive garments in a public square. He founded the Franciscans, a movement that is dedicated to works of charity with the poor and marginalized. He was, of course, known as a lover of animals and all God’s creation.

In 1223, St. Francis did something special to kindle devotion on the birth of Christ, God’s concern for the poor and oppressed, and God’s love for the animal kingdom. He created the first live nativity. A generation later, in the year 1291, the first pope that was from the new Franciscan order had a permanent manger scene placed in front of one of Europe’s churches. That began the tradition of carved manger scenes we still enjoy today.

But that very first live nativity scene set up by St. Francis himself was placed near the town square. A real manger was placed there with hay, with Mary and Joseph, a carved baby Jesus doll, an ox, and an ass. Francis invited the villagers to come and gaze on the scene while he preached on the “babe of Bethlehem” (they say he was so overcome with joy, he could not say the name “Jesus”).

One witness said the wooden doll of the baby Jesus appeared to cry tears of joy and “seemed to be awakened from sleep when the blessed Father Francis embraced Him in both arms.”

There was another miracle, too, a miracle that I invite us to get our hearts in touch with during this pandemic. I call it the legend of “hay that heals.” The story is that the hay in the manger, from this very first live nativity, healed sick animals and protected people from disease.

We gather outside tonight in the middle of a world-wide pandemic that has changed our gatherings but will not kill our spirits. And we gather because of the healing power of the one who was laid in a manger.

Our staff prepared a little cluster of hay to give each family tonight. We share it with all of us who have come and gathered safely outdoors for closing communion by candlelight.

I invite your family to ponder your little bundle of hay. I invite you to place it under your tree, or on your mantle, or under your centerpiece on this most unusual Christmas Day. Tell others the story of St. Francis and the first manger scene. Recall the legend of the “hay that heals.”

We share this little gift because our world need healing right now, more than ever. We pray that the healing that pours out from the manger of grace will touch us in every broken place.

"O Holy Night" - A Super-Charged Political Statement

   

This is a written version of my first Christmas Eve meditation on December 24, 2020. Because of the pandemic, we met for livestream-only worship in the sanctuary, followed by outdoor communion serving and closing candlelight circle. I shared a separate meditation later by the manger scene outdoors.

Did you know the classic Christmas song, "O Holy Night," contains a political statement that was bold and brazen for its time?

On Monday, many of us gazed into the sky and saw what has been dubbed the “Christmas Star.” Since this rare conjunction of planets is one way astronomers say God might have sent us the star of Bethlehem, I took it as a sign of hope in difficult times. How wonderful that for us, the "Christmas Star" happened to appear on the longest night of year. It’s been a year which has felt like one long night.

As I woke up Monday morning in what seemed like utter darkness, the song “O Holy Night” popped into my head. On the day of our darkest night, the first thing on my mind was the holiest of nights. So I did a little research.

Did you know “O Holy Night” was written in 1847? The text was written in the French language bv the French poet Placide Cappeau and set to music by French composer Adolph Adam. It wasn't translated into English until 1855.

Obviously, the major social issue blazing in the world in 1847 was slavery, and that's not just what was boiling in the United States. In fact, the following year, 1848, was the year slavery was finally abolished in France and the French colonies.

This simple fact deepens the impact of the last verse of "O Holy Night":

Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is Love and His gospel is Peace;

Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother,

And in his name all oppression shall cease, … 

That was a daring and direct statement with political implications! When the world was enraged and even on the brink of war over slavery, they openly sang that "the slave is our brother" and that in Christ's holy name, all such oppression shall cease. Period.

This gives us an angle on Luke's second chapter tonight. The very first "Christmas carols" in history - the canticles of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon recorded in Luke - all sing that the coming of the Messiah had everything to do with God's concern for the lowly, the poor, the oppressed, and the marginalized.

That’s why Jesus was born in poverty. That’s why he came from a technically unwed mother. That's why his family didn’t have the connections to find a decent room when traveling to Bethlehem. That’s why they laid the baby Jesus in a messy feeding trough full of hay, and that’s why they were visited by smelly shepherds who’d been working all night long.

God adores the poor and lowly, the needy and oppressed. So in God's odd way of saving the world, God became one of them, so that Christ might save us all.

This year, which has felt like one long night, has been a year when we’ve been acutely aware of stubbornness of systemic racism, and yet we worship the one in whose name all oppression shall cease. This year, when politics have been so divisive, we worship the one whose gospel is peace. This year, when some of us live on the brink of religious division, we worship the one whose law is love. This year, when we have been dealing with the blows of a world-wide pandemic, we worship the one who taught us to love one another.

This holy child, this Messiah, this savior, this prince of peace came to not only show us what true love is, but to bust open the door holding back God's radical grace. The singers of these songs can see that the love of God saves the whole world, but especially pours out upon the places and spaces love hasn't been reaching.

May it reach you tonight.

O Holy Night

This is a Christmas gift for you, my friends, on the longest night of the year. Blessings.

Spirit of Christmas

This is an original Christmas carol to share with you, my friends.

May you have a blessed and wonder-filled season.

I wrote it years ago during seminary, when I was enrolled in a class on the history of Christian thought with Drs. Roberta Bondi  and Bill Mallard (and sitting next to an attractive young woman named Sandy O'Quinn who I was not yet married to). We were studying Athanasius, who was very influential in the 4th century in clarifying the doctrine of the incarnation. He was well known for the idea that God in Christ came down from above that we might be brought from below.

For more on Athanasius see this article.

There's more than one way Christ comes to us

This is my column that appeared in “The Arab Tribune” on Wednesday, December 19, 2018.

Every year during the holidays, it seems that one story, one experience, or one conversation captures my imagination. It's not usually any of the gifts, or all the food (as much as there is of that to be impressed by), or the lights or the parties.

It's something unusual, something unexpected, and something a bit heart-warming. This year, it was a phone call.

Last Saturday, our church held our annual "Christmas and Beyond" party where we hosted most of the 150 children and their families that we help with Christmas. We had done all the shopping in advance, so we shared a Christmas program of songs and games, treated everyone to breakfast, and opened a Christmas thrift shop for their families to enjoy.

When it was all over, I got a phone call from one of my parishioners with a story I'll never forget. During the morning's activities, a grandmother who had brought her three grandchildren to Christmas and Beyond told a story to the volunteers who were fixing her coffee.

She said that the night before, her two nephews, who are ages 21 and 23, were at her house, and they asked her grandchildren what they were going to do on Saturday. The kids said they were going to a "Christmas party" at the Methodist church.

The nephews replied, "Oh, you will have a great time! We went there when we were your age, and they made us pancakes, and we heard the Christmas story, and everyone was so nice to us! You will love it!" One of the nephews said "It is my favorite Christmas memory!"

This brings a little mist to my eyes. As if that is not heart-warming enough, the grandmother continued, "You may not realize it but this party has a lasting impact and this is proof. Twenty years later, my nephews still remember your kindness." That's the best phone call I've gotten in a long time.

I love the Advent season. In my faith tradition, it's a four-Sunday season of expectation of the coming of Christ. The little Christmas surprises ... the serendipitous, heart-warming moments ... have grown to be something I expect.

I try to keep my spiritual antenna's up to see where God is going to show up. That's because there's more than one way Jesus comes.

I shared with my congregation that I have recently discovered the teachings of a 12th century French abbot named Bernard of Clairvaux, who said something to ponder during this holy season. He said there are really three "comings" of Christ.

The first was Christ's coming in the flesh. The second will be his coming again in glory. But there is one "coming" in between, his coming into our hearts.

Here are some words from his sermon: “We know that there are three comings of the Lord. The third lies between the other two. It is invisible, while the other two are visible. In the first coming he was seen on earth, dwelling among humans; he himself testifies that they saw him and hated him. In the final coming all flesh will see the salvation of our God, and they will look on him whom they pierced. The intermediate coming is a hidden one."

He continues, "In the first coming our Lord came in our flesh and in our weakness. In this middle coming he comes in spirit and in power, in the final coming he will be seen in glory and majesty. In case someone should think that what we say about this middle coming is sheer invention, listen to what our Lord himself says; ‘If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him’.”

It is this "middle coming" that seems to show up again and again for me during this season, sometimes when I least expect it but I try to always be looking for it. Because it lies between the other two, it is like a road we travel on from Christ's first coming to his last.

As Bernard put it, "In the first, Christ was our redemption; in the last, he will appear as our life. In this middle coming, he is our rest and consolation.”

Let him come into your heart today.

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, “Musings of a Musical Preacher,” is found at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

When God Comes Near

This is my column which appeared in The Arab Tribune on Saturday, December 23, 2017.

A number of years ago, long before blogging and social media were something I could imagine (but after email and fax machines were born ... I’m not ancient you know), I figured out how to make my first group list with an email address book.

Woah. This group email thing was new and unheard of technology. Yes, this story ages me, but it was then that I started sharing some devotional writings.

They certainly weren’t the length and breadth of the columns I try to write today, but it was a start. I began with a one-pager called “Faithclick” which went out every week or two.

One year, I got a call from a Birmingham newspaper, asking if they could quote my Faithclick in a piece they were doing on Christmas. I wasn’t even sure how they had gotten hold of it. I was honored and said “sure!”

Little did I know the editor was doing an op-ed piece to starkly contrast my thoughts with that of another pastor. I had no idea what I had gotten into.

The experience is etched in my memory as a reminder of not only the value of diverse faiths but of my intense commitment to the mystery of Christmas.

The other pastor’s point of view was that Christmas was not important. Salvation came through Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection, not his birth, he argued. So the only holiday that was important was Easter.

Bah, Hogwash.

My point of view is that Christmas is the great feast of the incarnation. The incarnation is that divine-become-human miracle that changed the world as well as the trajectory of salvation history.

Of course the crucifixion and resurrection are incredibly important, and my claim on Christmas is much more than a banal reminder that if Jesus had not been born he could not have died.

Christmas is much more than a birthday party for Jesus. It’s not even his birthday, since we have no idea when that was! Christmas is a feast that beholds the incredible miracle of the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us. The incarnation, crucifixion, and resurrection are a divine trilogy, if you will, of events of salvation significance. To leave the incarnation off the salvation menu is to abandon the great miracle of God crossing over.

I believe the incarnation is what is most distinctive and unique about Christianity. Other religions believe in one true God, in sin and grace, in prayer and holy writings, in the redeeming quality of suffering, and in loving God and neighbor. But no other historic world religion believes that God became human. In fact, this is the key offense other religions have against it.

Jesus was not just a teacher or prophet. In him we behold God’s glory. God crossed over to us because we can’t on our own cross the bridge to God. No amount of effort or religiosity or right living or correct doctrine can save us. So God came. What a strange way to save the world.

The incarnation is so integral to our faith because this miracle is the nest in which Christ’s life, death, and resurrection are born. And it has a huge impact on Christian spirituality.

Christ is still alive and present, a truth that is confirmed by the victory of Easter. His presence is in the world and the Church is his body. He is the living Word. It’s the reason the virgin birth is so important in the scripture’s narrative.

It’s the reason that in the wisdom of the ancients, folk winter festival traditions were adopted to serve the greater mystery. If you ever get frustrated by the secular and cultural aspects of Christmas or bend to the temptation of believing we are in some sort of culture war, remember that this festival adopting secular enhancements was a choice made long ago. It’s a reminder that the sacred and secular are not entirely opposite.

Just as the divine became human, the human can still point to the divine. This is incarnational spirituality.

I’ve always believed Christianity is something you follow, not swallow. To follow God’s lead, a key feature of our faith is to develop new eyes with which to see God in our midst.

I know Christmas is hard for some, especially for those who are grieving. There can be tears during this season.

Yet in our sorrow, may we know Christ is present. This is because God is, as Carlo Carretto famously said, “a God who comes.”

C.S. Lewis is well known for being a skeptic who, after years of intellectual struggle, converted wholeheartedly to Christianity. He noted many times that what really sold him on Christian faith was the incarnation. He wrote, “It is Christ Himself, not the Bible, who is the true word of God. The Bible, read in the right spirit and with the guidance of good teachers, will bring us to Him. We must not use the Bible as a sort of encyclopedia out of which texts can be taken to use as weapons.”

This year, take some time to come home to the miracle of the incarnation. It’s time to stop using religion to support our pre-set opinions and prejudices. Let the incarnation wash over you.

Let Christmas be a holiday for you in the true sense of the word, because a holiday is a “holy day.” Take some time to pause, to reflect, and to be silent ... not just because you need to collapse every once in a while because of all the shopping and parties. Do it because you are intentionally building the beholding of a mystery into the midst.

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, “Musings of a Musical Preacher,” is at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

Paws for the Holidays

This is my column that appeared in The Arab Tribune on Wednesday, January 4, 2016.

Every year, it seems something unusual makes my Christmas holidays delightful. It serves to remind me that blessings always come, if we just pay attention.

One year, when my daughter was a little girl, it was decorating her dollhouse with the same paint and carpet from our newly remodeled home. Another year, it was musing over the mice scurrying in our basement.

Still another year, it was having an exchange student from Germany in our home. After taking her to our Christmas reunion where we told the family holiday stories of me and my three brothers, she said, "I just have one question. How did your mother survive?"

Last year, it was the John the Baptist Christmas ornaments that appeared on my tree from generous parishioners, after I mentioned in a sermon that nobody makes John the Baptist Christmas ornaments. I think they enjoyed proving me wrong.

Who'd have thought that this year it would be having a puppy home for the holidays?

Let me introduce you to Jameson. He is the cutest and best behaved puppy on the entire planet, of course. He is a small terrier mix that belongs to my daughter, who is in nursing school in Birmingham.

My wife and I got to keep him for the five weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas while his "Mommy" had exams. It was pure joy (most of the time). He loves to play ball and chase bones, and he has the cutest little growl when he plays tug of war. He always comes back immediately when we let him out in the yard to do his business for a few minutes and then call him ... unless he gets distracted by something of a canine or feline variety.

Jameson is less than a year old, so the first time I took him on a leash to Arab City Park during the holidays, he had never seen Christmas lights. He wasn't so sure about the tunnel of light between the park and the historical village, especially with little girls running through it. But we went so many times, he overcame his anxiety.

He can sit, lay down, hop up on his hind legs, and (thanks to his holiday stay with us) shake hands. He is learning to roll over. When his roaming snout draws him toward a plate of holiday food, the words "leave it" keep him from eating it. Boy, he's smart.

He learned a less conventional trick during the holidays on his own. When I am laying on the couch reading or playing on my phone, sometimes it suddenly gets quiet. Too quiet. Then I feel his doggie breath.

He has sneaked up behind me and careful placed his tennis bone (yes, that's a "thing") just above my shoulder. He's just daring me to notice, grab the bone, and throw it again. I'd like to say we trained him on this one, but now that I think about it, I think he trained me.

We created a most unusual game with Jameson. We were sitting around in the living room drinking hot apple cider and I theorized that he always jumps in the lap of whoever moved last. So we started taking turns wailing and wiggling our arms in the air. This was of course a thoroughly scientific method and provided evidence that my theory was correct.

As a man of faith, I know what Christmas means. It is much more than a glib acknowledgement that it's Jesus's birthday (news flash ... nobody knows what day he was born). The reason it's a such a great feast is because it's about the miracle of the incarnation.

The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld his glory. It was the kind of glory that chose to come through enfleshed humility, a love that only begins to unfold from a wrapped up baby in a barn. It is a love born to an unwed mother everybody must have been gossiping about, but that shepherds heard the truth about from a more reliable source.

And there were animals conspicuously hanging around in every aspect of the nativity.

Somehow, in his own simple way, Jameson enfleshes the love of his creator, too. Just as the "grand miracle" of Christmas (thank you, C.S. Lewis for that phrase) is this divine-become-human strange way of saving the world, my "grandpuppy" reminds me of the lesser miracles of life and love, of joy and playfulness, that are wrapped up in the greater miracle of the incarnation.

Jameson reveals to me the reasons why even the animal kingdom expresses the hope of the Messiah. So much of the prophesy of the coming of Christ is a picture of the "peaceable kingdom" where lion and lamb lie together.

As I am writing this, here he is, laying his head on my stomach. His eyes are finally getting droopy and he is falling asleep. I thought he'd never want to quit playing fetch. We are laying in the couch by the fire, and it's 10:37 pm.

If Jameson is my grandpuppy, I guess that makes me a "grandpappy". And it's no coincidence that grandpappy rhymes with "happy."

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, "Musings of a Musical Preacher," is found at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

The Post-Christmas Feast

This is my column that appeared in The Arab Tribune on Saturday, December 26, 2015.

My name is Stephen. My aunts and uncles, and some of my cousins, have always called me that.

It wasn't until eighth grade, when the Six Million Dollar Man's opening sequence on TV resounded with the words "Steve Austin, astronaut, a man barely alive", that I informed my family I was to be going to be called Steve from now on. What can I say, it was more "cool."

Now, sometimes I ponder the origins of my name. It means "prince" or "crowned", a designation I certainly don't deserve. My wife doesn't appreciate it when I remind her of that, in contrast with the fact that her name means "helper." I'll probably get in trouble for putting that in the paper.

But every year, on the day after Christmas, it's my special day to pause to think of my name. Why? Today, December 26, is the Feast of Stephen.

Most people around here would know who Stephen is. He was the first Christian martyr, as recorded in the book of Acts. He was stoned to death for his faith, even while gazing into the heavens with his face aglow. A young Saul, later named Paul, stood nearby. It's an important part of the early Christian story. Today, when Christians are still persecuted in some parts of the world, we need to remember Stephen.

But most of us probably think, "why do we sing about the Feast of Stephen in a Christmas carol?" There is a long tradition in many places in the world that this day is "box day," a day to care for the poor by boxing up food and gifts for those in need on the day after Christmas.

"Good King Wenceslas" is a carol based on the legend of a 10th century duke, the Duke of Bohemia. He was a saintly monarch who personally cared for the poor and widowed. He was martyred for his faith, and followers kept the stories of his compassion alive.

The carol never mentions the nativity, but it's associated with Christmas because the narrative occurs on the Feast of St. Stephen, December 26. It is a call to follow in the footsteps of the saint, as did his page, in order to care for the poor.

So today, on the Feast of Stephen, let us also think of the poor and needy. As the text concludes, "ye who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing." What a great way to head from Christmas into a new year.

Here is the complete text of the carol by John Mason Neale, first published in 1853. May it bless your day and our many days ahead.

Good King Wenceslas looked out
On the feast of Stephen
When the snow lay round about
Deep and crisp and even
Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gath'ring winter fuel

"Hither, page, and stand by me
If thou know'st it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes' fountain."

"Bring me flesh and bring me wine
Bring me pine logs hither
Thou and I will see him dine
When we bear him thither."
Page and monarch forth they went
Forth they went together
Through the rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather

"Sire, the night is darker now
And the wind blows stronger
Fails my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps, my good page
Tread thou in them boldly
Thou shalt find the winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."

In his master's steps he trod
Where the snow lay dinted
Heat was in the very sod 
Which the Saint had printed
Therefore, Christian men, be sure
Wealth or rank possessing
Ye who now will bless the poor
Shall yourselves find blessing

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, "Musings of a Musical Preacher," is found at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

It's time to have "wonder-full holy days"

This is my column that was published in The Arab Tribune on Wednesday, December 2, 2015.

It starts.

Now that Thanksgiving has come and gone, the leftover turkey will find its way into the soup, the sandwiches, and the crevices in the floor. The company will go home, happy and well fed.

My father-in-law will treat us to a holiday dinner at a nice restaurant, like he always does. I'll take my annual opportunity to tease my wife about how cornbread dressing is so much better than oyster dressing (she's from Louisiana, she can't help it).

I will start gathering up some Fall decorations to put them away, and get around to a few chores that I was supposed to do before Thanksgiving. Okay, maybe I'll do the chores. It's time to find the tree and get the Christmas lights out.

It's the holidays! Gosh, they have already started. But just for a moment, I breathe.

There is something about that pregnant pause between Thanksgiving and when the Christmas parties and church activities start cranking up. I'm not into shopping on Black Friday, since shopping's not my thing. So maybe I'll wait until Cyber Monday. Or maybe I'll miss that, too, because I love this in-between space.

In my faith tradition, the first Sunday of Advent comes and we light the first candle. I know it's coming and my heart starts to anticipate the anticipation.

But for now, I pause. I stop. I reflect. Here come the holidays.

Every year, I recall that the word "holidays" comes from the fact that they are holy days. I don't get upset about the so-called war on Christmas, because I know that even saying "Happy Holidays" is a hidden, secret, subversive statement of faith. These times are holy, and I can feel it in my bones.

So I think this year, instead of jumping into all the things I need to do (or maybe just want to do), I'll pause to ponder what not to do.

I'll try not to eat too much. One plate at every party is fine, really (I think I can, I think I can, I think I can).

I'll try not to get too rushed. I will intentionally not attend everything I want to go to. My wife has been teaching me that it's really okay.

I'll try not to neglect my quiet time every day, because I crave the silence more than the sugar (okay, maybe not more than the sugar ... but I need it, and I know it).

I'll decide that one Christmas tree in my home is plenty (two last year was a bit much). Planning with our church's worship arts directors for a special service, celebrating the ornaments that represent Christ on our tree, reminds me that the simple act of placing one ornament on a branch is a life-giving expression of faith.

So I should savor the moment, not rush through it. This is the time, this in-between space, when I can decide to make the holidays holy.

Making them holy doesn't mean deciding they are boring or chant-like. It simply means that I am going to keep my antennas up so I can detect when God is present, ever-so vibrantly present, in the midst of them. And when I find God is present, I'll pause to pay attention.

It seems like very year, some little gesture, some humorous experience, or some serendipity will remind me of how human, how simple, and how profound these coming days are. Last year, it was when the donkey relieved himself on sweet Mary's dress at our Live Nativity. I laughed and I laughed.

This year? Who knows, but the holidays have a way of giving me a moment or two of reminders that it's all about the regular, the common, and the ordinary things made holy. It's about a manger, a smelly bunch of hay, a family really put out (literally) because of taxes, and a miracle in diapers that completely transformed the direction of the universe.

We call it the incarnation. That's a fancy word for the crazy way God showed up and moved into our neighborhood. What a strange way to save the world.

So have some wonderful holidays. They are meant to be exactly what the words say they are, "wonder-full holy days" indeed.

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who pastors Arab First United Methodist Church. His blog, "Musings of a Musical Preacher," is found at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

All is calm, finally

This is my column that appeared in "The Arab Tribune" on December 27, 2014.

Here we are, just a couple of days after Christmas.

There are leftovers in the fridge and crumbs in the cookie jar. Trash bags stuffed with wrapping paper lay next to a stack of shirt boxes, and my tummy is full and happy (maybe the word is bloated). An ornament has fallen off the tree and this time, I didn't pick it up. I wonder if I will.

Our family is settling into a post-Christmas lull, enjoying a few days off together. I think of Julian of Norwich’s saying “All is well, and all manner of things are well.” That’s how I feel after Christmas. It feels like all is calm after the storm.

It’s funny how our celebration of Christmas has evolved. Until recent history, no one started celebrating until Christmas Eve, when the tree went up and the festivities began for a holiday that went all the way to January 6. This ancient Christmas tradition is the origin of the song “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”

Nowadays, the Christmas craziness seems to start after Thanksgiving. There is lots of music, and there are classic movies on TV. The parties go all month. In church life, the pastor gets to go to lots of them. I always say it's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

There’s a reason we love to sing “Silent Night” on Christmas Eve, because by the time we get there, we are desperate for one.

So for most people these days, December 26 means we are done. Whew. We are dog tired, and Christmas is over.

But not for me. This is the best part.

I have grown to love the twelve days of Christmas, and it’s not just because it’s the pastor’s most common week for vacation (okay, that might be part of it). There is a certain stillness after our winter flurry. Even when I didn’t lose the season to too much stress, it is very nice to have some post-Christmas rest.

After all, it’s still Christmas. And Christmas is about peace on earth.

It occurred to me that by the time Joseph and Mary got to the manger to lay the baby down, all was calm and all was bright. Finally, they could give it a rest.

But getting ready for that day? No rest, only stress.

If we think our days leading up to Christmas were tough, think about Mary. She was about 14 years old, barely old enough to have a child and certainly unprepared to raise one. And though it makes us uncomfortable to use the words, she was an unwed mother. She was engaged, but not married. The angel had cleared up any potential misunderstanding about her pregnancy with Joseph, but others were undoubtedly talking.

Then Caesar orders everybody to go to their hometown. They were of little means, otherwise they would have had connections to get a decent room in Bethlehem. It was an 80 mile trip, and tradition says she rode on a donkey.

A donkey? I’ve certainly never been pregnant, but I do have an imagination. If she was great with child, this 80 miles was a long and bumpy ride. It could not have been pleasant.

By the time they got to the manger, they needed a silent night all right.

Maybe today's Christmas insanity is not just the result of the influence of commercialism. Maybe, just maybe, it evolved because our contemporary experience connects us with theirs.

If we believe in the mystery of the incarnation, this strange claim that Christians have, we have embraced the idea that the Word became flesh to dwell among us. Now that he is here, we could dwell on it a while ourselves.

So rather than succomb to post-traumatic stress, let’s give it a rest - a really good one. Let Christmas be calm and bright.

It's not too late. We're just getting started.

Steve West is a husband, father, minister, musician, and writer who serves as pastor of Arab First UMC. His blog, "Musings of a Musical Preacher," is found at www.stevewestsmusings.blogspot.com.

"Spirit of Christmas" on YouTube

"Spirit of Christmas" is a song I wrote a number of years ago, during my first semester in seminary. We had been studying Athanasius, an important fourth century church father, in class.

Athanasius is the one who coined the phrase "he became what we are so that we might become what he is" in his quest to clarify our belief in the incarnation. I often think of him around Christmastime.

A musical version may be found on my "Living Stones" CD, and you can listen to Spirit of Christmas on YouTube.

I share the lyrics in hopes that it helps you fathom the mystery of the incarnation during this holy season.

Spirit of Christmas, O come to us
As you came to the wise men of old,
As you came to the shepherds who found their way home
In a manger, so loving a fold.

Spirit of Christmas, you came to us
As a mother and father, so kind,
Surrounded the babe with a blanket of love
That the world, so hopeless, would find.

For God sent the Son to reveal to the people
A love unlike that which was known.
The Spirit of God came down from above
That we might be brought from below.

Spirit of Christmas, O come to us
As we follow our Morning Star,
Our minds be uplifted, our hearts rejoice
In discovering whose savior you are.

Spirit of Christmas, O come to us
As we seek to bring life to the world.
Abide in our hearts, let us rest in your care,
That the Spirit of love be unfurled.

Copyright 1994 Stephen P. West, all rights reserved

In the Forgotten Verses of a Beloved Christmas Song

Spending time with hymn texts can expand our spirituality incredibly.

There is no doubt that out of Charles Wesley's thousands of hymn texts, the most beloved one today is "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing."

Did you know our present version fails to capture some of his most beautiful and poetic thoughts on the spiritual formation of the human heart, in response to the miracle of the incarnation? The last few verses were not included in the adaptation we sing today to Mendelsohn's tune.

Here is Wesley's original text of "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing." Spend some time with the “forgotten” verses:

Hark, how all the welkin rings,

“Glory to the King of kings.

Peace on earth, and mercy mild,

God and sinners reconciled!”

Joyful, all ye nations, rise,

Join the triumph of the skies;

Universal nature say,

“Christ the Lord is born to-day!”

Christ, by highest Heaven ador’d,

Christ, the everlasting Lord:

Late in time behold him come,

Offspring of a Virgin’s womb!

Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see,

Hail the incarnate deity!

Pleased as man with men to appear,

Jesus! Our Immanuel here!

Hail, the heavenly Prince of Peace! 

Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all he brings,

Risen with healing in his wings.

Mild He lays his glory by,

Born that man no more may die;

Born to raise the sons of earth;

Born to give them second birth.

Come, Desire of nations, come,

Fix in us thy humble home;

Rise, the woman’s conquering seed,

Bruise in us the serpent’s head.

Now display thy saving power,

Ruined nature now restore;

Now in mystic union join

Thine to ours, and ours to thine.

Adam’s likeness, Lord, efface;

Stamp Thy image in its place.

Second Adam from above,

Reinstate us in thy love.

Let us Thee, though lost, regain,

Thee, the life, the inner Man:

O! to all thyself impart,

Form’d in each believing heart.

God of the incarnation, fix your humble home in my heart. Bruise the serpent's head in my soul, bringing light to my darkness. Restore my nature and bring me into mystical union with you. Imprint the image of Christ on my very being and restore me in love. Form your very self in my believing heart. In Christ, Amen.

Thank you, Charles, for leading me in prayer.