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We had the pleasure of watching Disney’s Candlelight Processional.

We’ve seen this before. Whoopi Goldberg was the guest narrator. Disney’s professional singers were front and center. High schools from around the country were invited to be a part of it. It’s visually spectacular, and the music fills my soul.

A seasonal gift that never gets old.

The fact that we had to stand because of a late arrival didn’t detract from the wonder of the experience. (Though high heels for some of the gals did cause a tad bit of fashion anguish.)

I’d seen this enough that I knew order of songs–and felt quite comfortable singing along with the choir. Several of us did. Some of my friends sing wonderful harmony.

Not me so much. I bring the joyful noise. It’s that goofy dad joke when a son comments that he’s going to choir practice and the dad reminds him to bring his bucket–to hold his tune.

I need a bigger bucket.

That didn’t deter me from adding my voice to theirs. Particularly the Hallelujah Chorus, where I must have changed key eight times. But it was the soulful joy of being part of something bigger than me, something truly beautiful where my meager croaks couldn’t destroy the communal glory.

What surprised me was the number of people on cell phones, texting away during the performance. They were there but not. images-1None of what was happening on stage seemed to grab their attention.

They weren’t wowed.

Some have seen this many times. Repetition can eliminate wonder.

The story itself, the birth of the One who will save the world from darkness, might not have been a light bright enough to draw them away from the routine of texts to the possibility of hope.

Some truth can do that to me. I hear something so many times I think I have it down. I don’t need to pay attention.

My Dad used to say, “It doesn’t cost you anything to be kind.” A valid truth that I would quickly forget when I was fighting with my sisters over an assumed wrong.

Then there’s the truth that every choice I make has a consequence. That one usually goes out the window when I want something so much in the present that I ignore the consequence down the road. Until I have to deal with it. Then whining enters the picture.

Truth is like that. It can feel old because I don’t want it to be absolute.

Whether I believe in a truth or not doesn’t make it not true. That’s a life reality.

The story of Jesus, giving up heaven to come to earth as a Man to save us from our sins, is a story many have heard and choose not to believe because it doesn’t fit their life choices. If what He says is true, it should have impact on how we live. It’s far easier to ignore it as truth or dismiss it as untrue.

Our belief, one way or the other, doesn’t affect the truth of His gift of grace.

I’ll enjoy the wonder. The amazing gift of love and forgiveness.

It really doesn’t get old.

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2 responses »

  1. maggie bruehl says:

    I put the blog on FB, but I’m always a little confused on your site since there isn’t a FB square to share. I’m not using my blog right now, or is that what “re-blog” means?

    • daylerogers says:

      I’m trying to figure this out. My lack of tech precludes really getting this. But a friend is trying to help me. I’m just grateful that you want to post this. Thanks, Mags.

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