It's become a bit of a tradition, but there's one service where chunky Christmas jumpers and funny hats are positively encouraged.
St Nicholas celebrates the story of it's patron saint, who is of course the figure whose story made our current Santa Claus (Sinta Niklaus). All three of our churches came together to mark the occasion in the newly redecorated church which is now re-opened for public services.
You can see our public video of the service by clikcing here
We're looking forward to restarting our Christingle service in a few days time.
Here is Revd Stephen's message from the day:
When I was young, I often visited my grandparents living in Broadview. There was Joan and Jim’s post office the other side of the railway tracks, and I would often be taken there to get something to ‘keep me quiet’ for the afternoon.
When we crossed the railway bridge, I would get all excited. I liked trains- any small boy would like to see a train. Would I see a train this time when I crossed the bridge?
Usually, no I didn’t. Just the tracks, running straight and parallel to the distant Folkestone West station that I could glimpse in the distance behind another bridge.
Sometimes, however, there was a light visible in the distance, a train coming this way. And I would make my parents stop on the bridge getting cold in the damp winter air (it was always damp and grey when we went on that walk I seem to remember), and we would watch the light getting slowly bigger until the train ran on underneath our feet. It took ages for that light to get moving along the track, perhaps we could see further down the line than we knew, but the excitement built as the train came closer, and if we were really lucky and got a friendly driver we would even get a hoot on the horn as it passed!
On even rarer occasions a train would pass suddenly in the other direction, which we couldn’t see coming.
The uncertainty of spotting the train was the highlight of the walk, and I was most disappointed if we couldn’t see one.
Life as a Christian is a little similar to that childhood experience. We long to see God do something, we want to know he is close by and want a glimpse of him. Our hearts would be just so satisfied to get a glimpse of him appear, even if it was for the shortest of moments.undefined
Those moments do come along of course, and we feel overwhelmed and elated at the closeness of our lord, as something happens in just such a way that we think what we’ve witnessed is either coincidence or god-incidence. And our appetites for him are whetted, and we seek him more and more, wanting just one more glimpse, please... pretty please, .... Our prayers turning more and more silent as we’re left with the equivalent of the quiet unchanging railway track in our view- a young hopeful child of God looking out from the bridge of life toward the horizon, hopeful of a sight of joy, but of course most of the while it is quiet that meets us.
We do revel in the moments when God’s hand appears in our life, however briefly. It gives us strength and direction. But the rest of the while we are looking and hoping- eyes strained to the horizon. The things of church, of prayer and of the friendships around us forming the tracks as it were, pointing us to where our gaze should rest.
This is the advent moment in a nutshell. This is the awkward tension the child of God is introduced to in this season. Advent is the stepping onto the railway bridge, the excitement building in our young heart. The view opens up to us, and... a silent scene, set rightly for action but unfilled of its characters. We pull on an unseen consciousness, the parent within us, busy with its task list for the day, to stop and wait, just in case. One by one, elements of the scene come to our attention as the silence rolls on. And then, in the distance, was that a light? It wasn’t there a moment ago was it? And the moment of the nativity, the power of heaven meeting earth comes rushing towards us. Before we are fully aware it is happening, the story of His arriving is unfolding again!undefined
Will we be ready to truly meet him in our heart before the scene rushes under our feet and we’re returned to the silence? The angels trumpet sounds- we don’t have to be fully ready- He has spotted us and calls to make a home in our heart.
If you ever have a chance to stroll over the bridge on Horn Street on a damp winter’s afternoon, see if your inner child tries to look across to the tracks. The adult in you will probably resist. But that youngster in your heart might have a thing or two to show you about the spiritual task of Advent.