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By the time we reach the fourth Sunday of Advent, the air feels heavy with both anticipation and exhaustion. We have checked the lists, wrapped the gifts, filled the calendar, and tried our best to create something meaningful in the middle of a season that rarely slows down. We are waiting for Christmas, yes, but we are also longing for rest, for reassurance, for something that feels steady and true. And into that space, Advent offers us one last word before the celebration begins: love. Not a soft or sentimental love, but a brave love — the kind that asks us to trust God when the path ahead is unclear and the timing feels anything but perfect.

The story we hear reminds us that love often begins with uncertainty. Mary does not have a plan, only a promise. Joseph does not have answers, only a choice. Neither one knows how the story will unfold, yet both step forward anyway. This is how God’s love enters the world — not with certainty or control, but through people willing to say yes in the midst of fear and wonder. Love shows up quietly, disguised as obedience, courage, and trust, and before anyone realizes it, the world is being changed from the inside out.

This week at Broad Street, I saw that kind of love everywhere I turned. I saw it in the joy and pride of our Preschool program, in children gathered together watching A Charlie Brown Christmas, and in the wide-eyed wonder as Santa made his visit. I saw love in the way people gave gifts to one another, not out of obligation but out of genuine care, and in the quiet generosity shown through our Angel Tree, where names became neighbors and needs were met with compassion. I saw love in tubs filled for Iredell Christian Ministries and items placed in our Blessing Box — small acts that carry great meaning. These moments remind me that love is never just an idea we talk about in worship; it is something we live and practice. This is love moving from words to action, faith made visible — giving a little more, noticing a little more, and loving a little deeper.

As I reflected on all of this, the words of a familiar hymn kept coming to mind, quietly preaching the message of the season:

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love incarnate, Love divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

These words remind us that the true sign of Christmas is not found only in candles or carols or beautifully wrapped gifts, but in love made visible — love given, love shared, love lived out. Love becomes our token, our sign to the world, our response to the God who first came near.

Then comes Christmas Eve, when the noise finally softens and the light grows gentle. The sanctuary fills with familiar hymns and flickering candles, and for a moment, time seems to slow. We hold the flame carefully, passing it from person to person, reminded that light is never meant to be hoarded — it is meant to be shared. On this holy night, we remember that God did not remain distant or untouched by human life. God chose closeness. God chose vulnerability. God chose to enter our world not in strength, but in a newborn child cradled in love.

And then Christmas Day arrives, quieter and less crowded, yet no less holy. The miracle does not end with the last verse of Silent Night. It continues in living rooms and hospital rooms, in conversations and quiet prayers, in joy that surprises us and grief that lingers longer than we wish. The love born in Bethlehem does not disappear when the decorations come down. It stays. It moves into the ordinary days and walks with us through everything that comes next.

As we move from the final candle of Advent into the light of Christmas, my prayer is simple and sincere: that you would know you are deeply loved. Not because you have done everything right, not because you have met every expectation, but because you belong to God. May you experience this love not as a fleeting feeling, but as a steady presence — a love that meets you where you are and gently carries you forward. This is the gift of Christmas: love comes down at Christmas, love has taken on flesh, and love has made a home among us. And no matter what this season holds for you, that love is here to stay.

Peace, Pastor Tracy