We had the annual Christmas children's pageant at church today. It was a scaled down version this year—somewhat befitting a precarious economy, congregants out of work, and the unexpected recent passing of our pastor's father. Nonetheless, it had all the requisite elements of a terrific kid's Christmas show:
It had the mumbled lines for the audience to guess at; it had the sweetheart who couldn't decide if she wanted to be onstage, and so walked off as soon as she realized she didn't know all the lyrics; it had the show-stealer who sang her Fa-la-la's at twice the decibels of everyone else; it had the kid in the back row who just had to pick his booger, (and can't you feel his mom cringing in the pew even now?); and it had the angel who, instead of a fallen halo, this year sported a broken wing. The only thing really absent, and it was absent in a good way, was the squealing feedback of a mike.
Most of all, it had heart. And in the end, it is the heart that really matters. It was fun, playful, even pushing into frivolity. Yet it still covered the essential message that God came to be with us.
And that is reason to celebrate.
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