by Rebecca D. Higgins

I didn’t feel very angelic standing there on a bale of straw dressed in my white socks and white “angel” robe. It would have been bad enough just standing on that ridiculous bale for an hour and a half; but to top it off, I had just been sick for a week and still felt light-headed and weak.

It was 1980, the night of our Christmas cantata at the Christian high school where I attended. Someone had come up with the idea that it would be a wonderful addition to have a live mini nativity scene at one side of the platform. Charlene and Greg would be Mary and Joseph since they were singing those solos. Since I had a two-line solo of the angel’s message to Mary, I automatically became the angel that would hover in the background.

Some of the guys had created a very stable-like atmosphere for our backdrop using rough boards for the walls. They had scattered loose straw on the ground, and several bales leaned against the walls. . . and, of course, there was the bale on which I was standing. Straw bales aren’t exactly the Rock of Gibralter as far as stability goes. When you’re still a bit woozy in the wake of the flu, they feel a little like standing on a very sloshy waterbed!

Added to these inconveniences and discomforts was a spotlight. No, it wasn’t supposed to be on me. It was supposed to be on the star above my head, but unfortunately, we didn’t have the blessing of lighting technicians or moving spotlights. We had to make do with a bulb–what seemed to me to be a very high-wattage, very bright bulb like the ones they use for outdoor spotlighting of church steeples or flags at night. We, however, were using it indoors in a very small space. It was impossible to get the spotlight to illuminate just the star, so I was included in its brightness. If I hadn’t been allowed to hold my black choir music folder, I’m convinced that I would have been permanently blinded! Besides emitting high-powered brightness, that spotlight also put out a lot of heat. It must have been a hundred degrees or more (at least it felt like it) standing there with sweat dripping down my face. What a dilemma! Should I take the flowing sleeve of my angel robe and wipe my forehead? Angels aren’t supposed to sweat, are they? Halfway through the cantata my only thought was “Lord, help me not to pass out!” He heard my silent cry, because I did manage to live through the evening and not fall off of that wobbly bale of straw into a crumpled pile. As soon as the “Amen” of the benediction was spoken, I made a beeline for the nearest chair and collapsed.

But the real problem that night was that the spotlight wasn’t supposed to be on me at all. It was in the wrong place.

Sadly, that is the same problem that occurs over and over again when Christmas rolls around. Our spotlights fall on all of the activities and parties, the busyness, the to-do-lists, the shopping lists. . . and yes, the lists could go on. . . rather than Christ himself. The focal point of Christmas isn’t about us, our wants, our plans, or our traditions. The spotlight isn’t even on the angels or shepherds or wise men who came bearing gifts, but the Light of Christmas is Jesus–the greatest Gift the world has ever known! So, this Christmas perhaps we need to do a lighting check to make sure that our spotlights are trained not on all of the peripheral trappings of the holiday but so that they shine on the real Star of Christmas–JESUS!