“The angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God’s praises…..” Luke 2:13
“Sounds like animals,” whispered a muted voice. “Trapped beneath the ice.”
“Never heard noises like these,” chimed another.
Imagine the scene. Ten Parka’d teenage bodies laying horizontal—ears pressed against the lake’s frozen surface—listening to the groans of expanding and contracting ice.
A first time experience. Curated intentionally by adults who understand the importance of young people encountering awe and wonder.
Never having set foot on a frozen body of water, these city kids were way out of their comfort zone. But after some convincing to step off the shore, fears were sidelined to cautiously follow their leader. Lives changed at that moment.
Catfish Pond. Delaware Water Gap, Pennsylvania. Seventeen degrees Fahrenheit. No clouds. Milky Way blazing in all its glory again the coal black sky. Eerily quiet. Just the rumblings of a shifting ice field for those choosing to prostrate themselves and listen.
Awe opens one’s heart in mysterious ways. Our teens returned to Camden different.
— Abraham Hesche, God in Search of Man
Perhaps that’s why, on Christmas Eve, I savor sitting in a candlelit sanctuary adorned with red-ribboned cedar wreaths, listening to a robust choir sing Handel’s Messiah with full orchestra. For over 240 years, this epic music has lifted mere mortals—like me—to a place of awe and wonder. It’s my frozen Catfish Pond experience—without freezing ears, cold feet, or near-frostbitten fingers. For those who listen, awe interrupts our lives in life-changing ways.
Could that be why St. Luke records God sending an enormous heavenly choir to the shepherds tending their flocks? Why the excess? Where’s the efficiency? Save time and transportation costs. One angel with a succinct message would be enough to get the shepherds on their way to Bethlehem.
Why use an ethereal, celestial performance on uneducated shepherds who wouldn’t know the difference between Mariah Carey and Beethoven? Something deeper must be happening.
But isn’t this God’s way? God never sends the B team for the lowly. In God’s economy, the forgotten never get the leftovers. Experiences of awe aren’t just for the privileged—not just for those holding season tickets to Carnegie Hall.
The shepherds get the Tabernacle Choir, the Philharmonic, and my friend David Kim as concertmaster. God’s extravagance and abundance are for all. And God invites me—and you—to help ensure this happens.
And maybe that’s why I keep coming back to the manger each December 25th. In a world constantly summoning me to look out for myself, protect my self-interests, fear the other, advance my status, and align with the influential, I need a contrarian voice calling me back to what’s true and real.
I need another narrative to challenge the dominant cultural voice. I need an annual reminder that at the center of the universe is a God whose heart is bigger, more gracious, and more inclusive than my limited mind can imagine.
Tonight, I again approach the manger in awe. I can hardly believe I’m invited. A gift is given that saves me from my small self while opening the door to an abundant, hope-filled, purpose-filled life. That’s a gift worth opening. Awesome, really.
A wonderful Christmas,
Bruce Main
President