Rev. Dr. Glen Miles, Senior Minister

During the season of Advent, I find myself longing for a time that will never return. I recall the excitement I felt as a little boy on Christmas Day, and I wonder if I will ever feel that way again. Oh, it has resurfaced on occasion. When our boys were young, the excitement returned when I’d see them ready to open the presents under the Christmas tree. And, honestly, I must say, those moments were even more exciting than those from my childhood.

As time passes and seasons and traditions change, it is easy for me to feel a sense of melancholy, of a yearning for those exciting old moments to return. The sadness grows when I remember loved ones who are now in the resurrection. I miss my grandmother’s broccoli cheese casserole and my grandfather’s warm and wonderful laugh. Grandma poured a lot of love (and a lot of cheese) into everything she baked for us. 

I miss my dad too. Dad, like me, was always busy in December right up to the very last moment of Christmas Eve. Though on Christmas Day, it always seemed like all the cares, worries, and stresses of the year vanished into the joy of the celebration. I was well into adulthood before I discovered the sources of the pain he experienced, but I still long for those days when he wasn’t Pastor Miles; he was just dad.

I’ve noticed, though, that almost every year during Advent, something mystical begins to emerge. I see little things, magical moments that transform an ordinary grey December day into a reminder of the presence of God. I recall going home at the end of a long and busy day filled with ZOOM meetings last year. I was exhausted. The sense of melancholy was almost overwhelming. But when I walked into our living room, our dog Laila greeted me with a wagging tail and an excited bark. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace. The aromas of an amazing meal filled our little apartment. Julie greeted me with a gentle kiss.

I didn’t cry, but I honestly wanted to let the tears flow. I swear at that moment, I could hear the angel on the top of our Christmas tree singing, “Gloria In Excelsis Deo.” At that moment, I realized that I was home despite all the change and loss, the fear and worry, the wonder, and the sorrow.

What was it exactly that brought on this feeling? I cannot say for sure. That is part of the mystery. A lover’s kiss, a warm space, a happy dog, all of these can help us walk into the mystery of that elusive place called home. 

More than anything else on Christmas, I believe the single gift all of us long for more than any other is the simple gift of finally and fully being home. When we find our way to that mystical place, listen closely because I believe we will hear “heaven and nature” sing.

Rev. Sarah Kientz, Minister to Camp Akita and Youth



We learned as small children that Advent is about waiting. The four weeks leading up to Christmas are about hope and preparation for the great joy to come: once again, a baby will transform the world. Once again, God will show up in a way we can feel and hear and understand.



To me, Advent has a clear ending: it comes as we sit in the pews on Christmas Eve, the lights darkened around us, and then softly, as though from far away, the choir begins to sing “Once in Royal David’s City.” Their candles come closer, their voices grow louder, and the lights burn brighter. Moments later, we’re on our feet, singing, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” The Sanctuary is bathed in light, the voices are loud, and the joy becomes tangible. It reverberates within us and around us, and suddenly we’re part of it all. Christmas is here.

Advent is just four weeks, but it feels we’ve been waiting much longer. There was no “Once in Royal David’s City” last year. There was no communal moment when the lights came up, and our hearts sang as one. I’ve been waiting for the hymns since 2019.

Confession: amid the pandemic, on a spring afternoon, I listened to a recording of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” I laid on my bed and closed my eyes, unable now to see the issue of Time Magazine I had been reading, its headline announcing that our country exceeded 500,000 deaths from COVID. As the orchestra swelled in my ears, I imagined sitting in First Community’s pews, surrounded by joyful faces singing the words we’ve sung so many times: “Mild he lays his glory by / born that we no more may die.”

I expect Christmas Eve will feel different this year: a new warmth when the lights come upon us, a new joy when we sing together, a new yearning that the lyrics might really be true. Once again, God will show up in a way we can feel and hear and understand. Until then, we wait.

by David Hett, Dean of the Burkhart Center

One discovers the light in darkness. That is what darkness is for. But everything in our lives depends on how we bear the light. It is necessary, while in darkness, to know that there is a light somewhere, to know that in oneself,

waiting to be found there is a light.

--James Baldwin, Nothing Personal

In the 4^th century, the early orthodox Christian church set December 25 as the date for the birth of Jesus, not surprisingly to capture the Roman celebration of Saturnalia and the many traditions honoring the Winter Solstice from China to the Celtic Midwinter or Yule festivals. Later, Soren Kierkegaard summed it up in this paraphrase: “It was night when the Christ-child was born. It must be night in order to discover the True Light.”

In the northern hemisphere, winter is a time to go deep, and that is the point of Advent/Solstice, appearing at the “ripe” time, as the light wanes and the days darken. This means that we all move into darkness now, naturally, or perhaps in dark circumstances in our own lives—or sometimes both.

If we enter Advent in its more profound mythological sense, the story holds clues to ways to navigate the seasonal darkness and dark times in the seasons of life. The smallest event, the birth of a Jewish peasant child in a backwater place in an occupied territory within the Roman Empire of the 1st century BCE, somehow is a cosmic event. Our smallest actions, accomplished in vulnerability, affect the world. Second, the myth of Advent has Mary, with the seed of God within, “pondering all these things in her heart.” The hunkering down of winter is a time for hibernation and reflection, inquiry into the deeper meaning and purpose of life and our individual lives, allowing that divine seed to grow and mature within us.

Brilliant teachers give us inquiry questions to ponder:

Marian Wright Edelman: What kind of people do we want to be? (“What kind of ancestor do I want to be?” is another way to frame the question.) What kind of moral examples, teachings, choices—personal, community, economic, faith, and political—are we parents, grandparents, community adults prepared to make our children strong inside and empower them to seek and help build a more just, compassionate, and less violent society and world?

We might ask: What does love invite us to now?

James Hollis gave these in a recent talk: What is wanting expression through us at this time? What is pushing you from inside? What wants to enter the world through me?

Meanwhile, the end of the season of Christmas sends us off to follow a star. And Sister Joan Chittister invites us to use this liminal time of year to inquire in this way: What is it for which you are spending your life? What is the star you are following now? And where is that star in its present radiance in your life leading you?

In dark times, we also need each other even more. Let us cling to one another, virtually, in heart, in person, this Advent/Solstice season, as we prepare for the returning of Light in our lives and world.

by Rev. Mary Kate Buchanan, Minister of Pastoral Care

I planted around 1,000 bulbs this Fall. It was hard work! Especially when there are rocks, ropes, gravel, cement pieces, clay, grass, and garbage in the mix. It was not the most pleasant experience, to say the least. As I was lying on my hardwood floors waiting for my Advil to kick in and soothe my aching back, I was reminded by one of the wise women in my life about that amazing feeling of accomplishment we get when we work really hard at something. She was right. As I spread that last bit of mulch over the top, tucking all those bulbs in all cozy for the winter months, I stood there marveling at my work. It didn’t look like much. Actually, it looked pretty rough! But I knew that Spring would bring reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, purples, and whites all over my front yard. All I have to do is wait.

Planting bulbs feels like a very Lenten story. I am, after all, waiting for the arrival of Spring flowers, not Christmas. The more I thought about it, though, it feels right for this Advent season as well. We aren’t very good at waiting anymore. Our society as a whole just doesn’t have to wait like we used to. Waiting 5-7 business days turned into Amazon Prime two-day shipping. Then this morning, I ordered something from bed, and it was on my front porch when I got home from work. We can order food online so that we don’t have to wait when we arrive to pick it up. Self-checkout lanes make it so we don’t have to wait in lines at Target or the grocery store. We just don’t have to practice waiting very often anymore. Then this pandemic happened, and the world stopped, and now it’s having a hard time getting its wheels turning again. Supply chain issues have caused us to have to wait for items to be in stock again. Without enough people returning to work in restaurants, we are finding ourselves waiting for tables and food to arrive for much longer. Here’s the thing- I’ve seen that impatience, frustration, and nastiness creep in when we are out of practice at alarming rates. I imagine you’ve seen it too.

I get it. Sometimes waiting feels like it drags on forever. I can already feel the 27 days of Advent feeling like 27 years. Waiting is quiet work, but it’s work nonetheless. So, I invite you to do the work of my bulbs this waiting season.

1. Get cozy. Take a break from the rushing and impatience and settle in a bit. What do you notice? There’s beauty in the waiting. After all, our cozy blankets are much better than my bulb’s mulch blanket!
2. Soak in the fertilizer and nutrients. Eat the cookies and get fed by the Spirit at church in worship or Bible study. Waiting becomes a fruitful journey when you aren’t too hangry to experience the gifts it brings to your soul and Spirit.
3. Find your hole-mate. Just as hundreds of other bulbs surround my bulbs to wait within their tiny holes, so can you! Dare I say that waiting is fun when you do it with others? Call or text an old friend. Send a card to someone who has been an important part of your life. Sit next to a new person at church and get to know them.

See you this Spring Advent!

Your friend and pastor in the waiting,

Mary Kate Buchanan

C. Andrew Blosser, Director of Music

As far back as I can remember, Christmas has always been my favorite time of year…but not necessarily for the reasons you might imagine. Money was tight in our household since my father deserted his wife and three children due to alcohol addiction. My mom worked many hours as a telephone operator, making very little wages. This meant that money was tight, and we often didn’t get much beyond the necessities. We never went without, and thanks to Lay-Away at Rink’s Department Store and Murphy’s Mart, and a loving, generous aunt, our mom always made sure we had a nice Christmas.

Receiving gifts is always nice, but that wasn’t the most important part of the holiday season. I recognized at an early age how the Christmas season seemed to bring out the very best of everyone. 

One year around Thanksgiving, my mom was laid off and started cleaning houses to pay the bills. I was old enough to understand the challenges mom was facing. That Christmas was one that I will remember for the rest of my life. It was both incredible and embarrassing at the same time. 

I grew up in a small town where everyone knew everybody. We attended a small Methodist Church where we were active in the music and youth programs. We had extended family and many friends who lived in the surrounding areas. All these people came together and collected food, gifts, and other financial gifts to help support us during this hardship. The volunteer fire department dropped off boxes of food. Random church members would stop by and ask to speak with mom when she was home. On Christmas morning, we awoke to what can only be described as Christmas exploded in our house. I have never seen so many gifts. It was overwhelming and humbling to see this support from the community.

As a teenager, this was an embarrassing experience, but it helped me understand that we are called to pull together to help our neighbors and strangers alike in their time of need as followers of Christ. It showed me that the world is full of generous, compassionate people – no matter what the evening news says. 

This season, I encourage us all to take a moment to give thanks for all the blessings we have received and to ponder how we can be good stewards to make this world a more loving, compassionate place for those who are experiencing difficult times…not just at Christmas, but all year long.

Sally Beske, Director of Children and Youth Choirs

Growing up as the oldest of 4 children, I was the boss. Come Christmas time I would order my siblings about in the creation of a “Christmas Show” that was performed for, or mostly endured by, the neighbors and friends of my parents. The content of our show was to be a surprise for our mom and dad, so our rehearsals were on the one night a week that they got out. Our house was loud and crazy with 6 of us, most of us playing instruments of some sort, often simultaneously, and lucky for us, they needed a break.

As their car pulled up in the driveway on their return from peace and quiet, our rehearsal would abruptly end while we made a mad rush to put the living room back to its original state of normal. As diligent as four pre-teenagers could be, there were some things that we did not get quite right… like the time we got fingerprints on the ceiling. Apparently, when you paint a backdrop with colored chalk, it makes your hands all “chalky,” and when you stand at the top of a ladder thumb-tacking it up over your head, you do need to touch the ceiling to keep from falling. Another year we taped a toilet paper tube to a light bulb to make a nifty spotlight. As an added bonus, it also smoked! You can open the windows on a cold November day, but somehow, the smell of smoke will still be detectable to a mom who worries about things a little too much.

This year the brother and sister who live nearby will come to our Youth Choir Christmas Musical with their families, as they have done in the years past. We will share a hug at the end, knowing that it all started with them so many years ago. We are thankful for those times but mostly grateful we survived! For my siblings, there is also a huge feeling of relief. Their bossy older sister finally found a better way to live out her need to create these things and now puts other people together to perform them.

May God bless you all with a season full of happy memories. Merry Christmas.

We remember before God, all those who rejoice with us, but upon another shore, and in a greater light, that multitude which no one can number, whose hope was in the Word made flesh, and with whom in the Lord Jesus we are one forevermore.

The Sanctuary decorations for the Christmas Eve services are provided by these memorial gifts. Each name submitted will be added to a video presentation which will be underscored by music and distributed digitally in church-wide emails and on our church social media platforms. 

Please note: there will be no poinsettia to pick-up, all memorials will be digital. 

Questions?: Contact Shelly Sagraves at (614) 488-0681 ext. 291 or by email.

Last year's #AdventAtHome program was so much fun, we decided to do it again! We hope you will join us once again for this social media campaign.

Make sure to join in the fun by following along with our calendar and tagging First Community on Facebook or Instagram. You can also download a copy of the calendar by clicking the button below.

Join us as we share the love, joy, peace, and hope of the holiday season.