Yesterday was one of those difficult days in ministry. I was tired and frazzled. A funeral last Friday was followed by the usual Saturday and Sunday events and business. Sunday afternoon, I sat by the bedside of a dying parishioner, praying and reading Psalms as I listened to her labored breathing. Monday morning, I received word that she had died, so there was another funeral to plan this week. Monday also was our regularly scheduled vestry meeting. All of that meant I woke on Tuesday after little sleep, knowing that the day would be long, busy, and exhausting.

By the time I arrived at church yesterday, it was already full of activity. Members of the altar guild were decorating the nave for Christmas and full of questions about upcoming services, including the funeral. There were bulletins to prepare and questions from staff, lay leaders, and others about Christmas Eve and Christmas Day services. In the middle of all that, I paused for an hour to talk with family members and plan the Thursday funeral service. Then there was a staff meeting, and a walk-through of Christmas Eve with the thurifer.

I was physically and spiritually exhausted as I welcomed people to our evening Eucharist and began the service. But something miraculous happened, at least for me. As I spoke about the gospel for Tuesday in 4 Advent (Luke 1:26-38–the same gospel that we read on Sunday), I realized that the words I was saying were addressed not primarily to the congregation gathered there. They were addressed to me. I spoke about all that had been going on in my life the past few days, all that had been going on the world around us, and the difficulties many of us face in this season. Christmas is meant to be a time of joy and celebration, but for many it is a time of great stress, sadness, even conflict. It is often difficult to be open to God’s presence in such times, to welcome the coming of God into our midst.

As I was speaking, I sensed that all of the day’s–the week’s–stresses were leaving me and my heart was making room for God. As I looked at the faces in the congregation, it seemed as if something similar was happening to some of them. I left my burdens at the altar, received Christ in the bread and wine, and received strength for the journey. The words I preached changed me. I’m told from time to time that a sermon of mine has had a powerful impact on a hearer. This is the first time in my memory, that a sermon of mine has had such an impact on me.

Today, there is more bustle at church with workmen in the nave, arrangements concerning the funeral, pastoral appointments in the afternoon. But today, at least for a bit, I am prepared for the coming of Christ.